Lost In Paradise
by weirdmixofsodapopanddallas
Summary: Motley Ace Curtis has run away. He's sick of Darry, Tulsa, losing people close to him, everything. He just needs to get away. Living without someone breathing down your neck all the time... It'll be paradise, right? Right? Hello? (Sequel to Stone Cold)
1. If You Tried

_Author's note: Hiya, guys! Here we okay with the one, the only, Motley Ace Curtis! In all honesty, starting this story is freaking me out. Usually I at least have a general idea of what I want to have happen in a story before I start posting it, but with this one, I'm only sure about how I want it the end. The question is, how to get there and how to make it interesting. So, take a leap of faith with me into the scary black hole and let's do this!_

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders is not mine in any way, shape, or form. If only wishing made it so...**

 **THIS IS A SEQUEL TO STONE COLD, SO IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY READ THAT, YOU WILL BE REALLY BLOODY LOST! I SUGGEST YOU GO READ THAT FIRST! Unless you like being confused. Whatever makes you feel warm and fuzzy.**

 _ **Chapter 1: If You Tried**_

MOTLEY'S POV

I thought this was gonna be everything I wanted. I thought I was finally gonna be happy. I wasn't gonna have anyone bossing me around or telling me what to do. Nobody was gonna hurt me anymore. I was gonna be free.

It just didn't work out that way.

Let me start at the beginning.

XxXxX

I don't think I've ever been as nervous as I was on my way out of Tulsa. I only had one thought playing in my head over and over and over again. Somebody's gonna stop me and take me home. Somebody's gonna stop me.

Yeah, not if I can help it.

I was a little calmer once I was walking down the highway. People were less likely to recognize me out here, realize what the bag slung over my shoulder meant. It wouldn't be too hard for most of Tulsa to work it out. If I had a nickel for the number of times I've heard people talking about how they're surprised I put up with Darry and haven't just lit out for Texas by now…

"Uh, Curtis? You walkin' off in the direction of nowhere for any reason in particular?"

I'd only just reached the bus stop and turned to find Tim Shepard sitting next to me in his car.

"None of your business, Shepard." Usually I worked harder to be nicer to Tim, but I just wasn't in the mood today.

Tim looked at me for a second. Then he noticed the bag. "Holy shit. You're actually gonna do it."

"So?" I didn't have to answer to him.

"Curtis, c'mon. Think this through."

"I have. And it makes sense. Now piss off."

Tim shook his head, turned around and drove back to town. Something told me he was gonna go tell Darry exactly where I was. All I could do was hope and pray the bus got here before Darry did. I didn't have a chance to outrun them if I was on foot.

Thankfully, my prayers were answered. Sort of.

Our truck pulled up right behind the bus. I hopped off the bench and hurried over to the doors that just couldn't seem to open fast enough.

I got on the bus as fast as I possibly could and grabbed a seat at the back. It started pulling away from the curb. I was home free. I'd done it.

I looked out the window and saw Darry and Soda standing there. Ponyboy would still be with Two-Bit. He wouldn't know.

Glory, kiddo, I'm sorry.

"Motley, come back!" Darry shouted.

I ignored him. What else is new?

"Motley, please!"

It was so much harder to ignore Soda. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. Leave me alone, Soda. Just accept the inevitable and let me go. Forget about me. Please.

"Motley Ace Curtis-!" The rest of Darry's shout was lost as the bus really got going.

I sat there in stunned shock. I'd actually done it. I mean, every kid's thought about running away for the stupidest things, but most of them just go to sleep in their bed that night, too comfortable and happy right where they are. I'd actually gone and done it.

The main question was: what was I gonna do now?

"Hi."

I turned. There was a curly-haired brunette chick sitting across the aisle from me, smiling broadly. I was used to that by now. I get attention the same as Soda. I just don't put up with it as much as he does. This time, however, I didn't see why I shouldn't talk. I had nothing better to do. "Hi yourself."

"Do you know those people out there?"

You couldn't just talk about anything else? "Just some guys I gotta leave behind."

"They sure didn't seem to like the idea."

"Well, that's their problem, now isn't it?"

"Ooh, ice."

"Yeah, I'm good at that."

"So, why? And who are they?"

"They're my brothers. And we've been havin' some issues lately. People lying and breakin' promises and tellin' secrets that ain't theirs to tell. You know how it rolls."

"Yeah, I do." There was something about her face that told me she did genuinely understand. "I'm leavin' for pretty much the same reason. Me and my folks don't get along, so I'm goin' to college somewhere as far away from here as possible.

"Impressive."

"Where're you goin'?"

"I dunno. I'm just gonna wing it."

"No college?"

"I was under the impression you had to graduate high school for that one."

She looked at me with renewed interest. "You're a dropout? You really didn't strike me as the type."

That's weird. Everybody was shocked when Soda left school and I didn't. "I ain't a drop out. My twin brother is, though. But whatever. I just ain't finished yet."

I think it hit her then exactly what was going on. "You're not over eighteen yet, are you? You're not movin' out, you're runnin' away."

"Somethin' like that."

"You trust me enough to tell me that? I mean, I could run straight to the cops the minute I get anywhere near a phone."

"You really didn't strike me as the type."

"Ha ha. But really. Why d'you trust me?"

"I don't. The thing is, even if you did tell somebody, I'd be outta there before they could show up, so it wouldn't matter anyhow. And your body would be in a ditch on the side of the road."

She stared at me, then started laughing.

Isn't it nice when somebody gets your sense of humor? Especially when most people get freaked out by it? When I say stuff like that, most everybody thinks I'm dead serious. I'm really just messing around. Most of the time.

"So, where're you gonna go first?"

"Oklahoma City. Get my bearings. Then we'll see where I go from there."

"Well, here." She pulled a piece of paper out of her bag and started writing on it. "This is gonna be my phone number as soon as I'm settled in. You seem interesting, and I don't want this to be one of those 'met the perfect guy, talked to him some, then let him go and never saw him again' things."

Well, this was going different than I'd expected. But I took the paper and pocketed it anyhow.

"So, d'you have a job? Or, had?"

"I worked down at these stables in town. You know the Slash J stables?"

"Yeah. So, you worked with horses?"

"Nah, I worked with the dogs. Trained em up to race."

"Y'know, technically that's illegal."

I hadn't thought about that. "Well, it's not like any of the cops cared. Half of em turned out to watch."

"So, you got along well with the police?"

I started laughing. "Me? Hell, no. Half of em woulda liked it best if I'd just gotten shot and killed. Y'know, except for all the paperwork. They just ignored some of their own laws every now and then so they could do what they wanted, y'know? Hypocrites."

"I never had very much to do with the police. My parents would've skinned me if I did."

"Mine would for everythin' I do too, if they were still around."

"Your parents are dead?"

We were getting into an area of conversation that _really_ isn't my favorite. "Yeah, they are. Car wreck about eight months ago."

"I'm so sorry…"

"I never got that. Sayin' you're sorry. It's not like you did anythin'. You didn't kill em."

"You don't wanna talk about this, do you?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Well, let's talk about somethin' else. I'm Christine. What's your name?"

I paused. "Ace."

She cocked an eyebrow. "That's different."

"I like it, and don't you go givin' me any shit for it."

"I wasn't planning on it. I like it. It's good different. Are there any other weird names in your family?"

Another pause before I shook my head. "My twin's name is Patrick. My kid brother's name is Michael. My older brother's name is Shaynne, after our dad." Halfway true.

"And your older brother's the one you're fighting with?"

"Yep. He's the colossal asshole of the universe."

"You've got a real mouth on you, you know that?"

"I've got a real nose too. What's your point?"

"I'm just saying."

"If it bothers you, don't talk." I'm not the type to sit there and let somebody criticize me.

"It's fine. I just… I wasn't expecting it, that's all."

"Were you raised under a rock? You look at a guy like me, and you don't expect a little language?"

"You're right. I should've realized. I just thought maybe you'd be different."

"Well, I ain't. And that's just life."

"You could be if you tried."

 ** _Thoughts? Sarcastic comments? Questions?_**


	2. About Ready to Keel Over and Give Up

_Author's note: Here we go again, guys. Who's ready for round two?_

 _Also, I've just gotta say, I am not trying to insult anyone from Arkansas. I'm sure your great people. You're state isn't ugly as sin, like most people are led to believe, you've just got a bad rap._

 **Disclaimer: Since I'm here writing this and not hanging around with the cast, I think it's pretty obvious I don't own The Outsiders.**

 _ **Chapter 2: About to Keel over and Give Up**_

MOTLEY'S POV

I hated to leave Christine on the bus, but this was my stop. Goodbye, Tulsa. Hello, Oklahoma City.

Now what?

You see, this is the thing nobody ever does a good job explaining. If you run away, then what do you do? Where do you go? What do you eat?

I'd just have to take everything one step at a time. I'd never been big on one grand master plan anyhow. First things first: Get out of state. It'll be harder for them to find you.

Which begged the question: which state next?

Isn't it about this time in the movie when somebody says, "I hear Arkansas is lovely this time of year"?

Arkansas. Ugh.

Then again, it's not like anyone would think to look there…

Oh, you did not just consider that.

Okay. Cool states. Um… California. New York. New Jersey. Michigan. Hawaii. Texas.

Closest out of all of those was Texas. And whenever anybody mentioned running away, they just automatically said Texas. Maybe that was for a reason. Maybe it was an easy place to hide. Then again, maybe that's the first place they'd look for just that reason. And it's closest, like I said before. Not a good thing, really.

Okay. Farthest thing. California. I'd always wanted to see the ocean. Learn how to surf or something. It looked tuff. It was a big state, and there were tons of people there. Maybe it was the way to go.

Alright, cool. California it is. Next question: how to get there? It's not like I had money to go to buy a plane ticket to California, or switch around on all the buses it would take to get there. And I definitely didn't have the money to buy a car and just head out. I guess I could hitchhike. But you meet some real weirdos hitchhiking. Not the best idea.

Except it was the only one I had.

Maybe I could take buses as far as possible on the money I had, then hitchhike from there. I'd be able to get myself reasonably close, wouldn't I? It's not like bus tickets cost **_that_** much. I could pull it off.

Couldn't I? Couldn't I?

Yeah, I got no idea anymore. This was a stupid plan, really. Even I knew that, and I was the king of stupid plans. There were so many things that could go wrong that it was ridiculous.

But it was kinda all I had, so I guess I'd just have to roll with it.

I glanced up at the sign at the bus terminal. There was a bus that just drove along the route and you could get off whenever you ran out of money to pay. It wasn't much, but it was something.

And at this point, something was better than nothing.

SODAPOP'S POV

We just stood there at that bus stop, watching the thing take Motley away, knowing we couldn't stop it. Man, life really blows sometimes, don't it?

"Glory, he's impossible." Darry muttered.

And I saw red.

Before I knew it, I had Darry slammed up against the bus stop, the front of his shirt balled up in my fist.

And he wasn't even fighting back.

"He's impossible? _**He's**_ impossible?"

"Soda-"

I brought him forward and slammed him back again to shut him up. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"Down, Curtis." Tim put his hands on my shoulders.

I shrugged loose, but let go of Darry all the same. I started pacing back and forth, running my hands through my hair. "He warned you, Darry! He warned you! If you'd just listened to him! What'd you even do this time around?"

"I just… shared some information that wasn't mine to share."

"Alright. Sure. You be vague and annoying. You're good at that." I'd never felt so lost in my life. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. They were supposed to figure themselves out. They were supposed to apologize and start getting along like good kids. Motley wasn't supposed to leave. Darry was supposed to be careful.

Damn it, what's happening to us?

PONYBOY'S POV

The house was empty when Two-Bit I got home.

I looked around the room, confused. "Hello?" I headed back to our bedrooms. "Guys?"

I paused when it hit me that Motley's room was oddly clean. "The hell?"

Two-Bit stopped next to me. "It's a miracle."

I shook my head. "I don't think he cleaned it." I went in there (which is always taking your life in your hands if you do it without permission) and started opening drawers, looking for the clothes that were normally piled on the floor.

There were still clothes in the drawers, but not as many as before. Plenty of them were missing. The photographs were gone. The cigarettes were gone.

And then it hit me.

"He's gone."

"What d'you mean, he's gone?" Two-Bit looked like he couldn't decide whether he thought this was a joke or not. "He couldn't just up and leave. Somebody'd notice and bring him home."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." I said under my breath, heading back through to main room. Maybe there'd be more clues there.

"Pony, I think maybe you're takin' this more serious than you need to. He's probably off with another broad. You know how he is. If I didn't wanna keep my face in one piece, I'd tell Darry to do somethin' about the fact that he seems to be shapin' up to be a slut."

"Don't call him that." I snapped, turning to face him. "He's not a slut."

Two-Bit raised his hands in the air like he was under arrest. "Alright, jeez. I didn't mean nothin' by it. I just mean that he gets around."

"Shut up. Just… shut up."

I never thought he'd actually manage to physically do it, but Two-Bit shut up.

That's when I noticed the photo on the table. And the state it was in. I picked it up and silently stared at it. Motley's last that's what he'd say. He never was one for saying goodbye the right way, and when he's pissed, it just gets worse.

The front door opened. "Pone…"

I looked up from the picture. Soda and Darry were standing there in the door. I ignored Soda for a second and focused on Darry. "Nice goin', man. You should be in that world records book."

"Ponyboy-"

"Oh, shut up." I don't know where I was getting the nerve to say these things. Usually I'd just keep my mouth shut and go someplace else. But I'm gonna be honest here: Motley meant a lot to me. He may have been hard and cold on the outside, but there was somebody else in there. Somebody I only occasionally caught a glimpse of. The guy he'd been before we lost Mom and Dad, when all he wanted to do was laugh. When nothing meant anything. Personally, I always felt like we had something, and lately we'd been connecting even more, and… I dunno. I just knew that I'd lost something else.

And this time, it was Darry's fault.

I tossed the picture to him. "I think this is meant for you."

"Ponyboy-"

I ignored him. "Soda, you got any idea where he got off to?"

"We saw him get on a bus and leave."

"Wait - you _**saw**_ him get on a bus? What d'you mean, you saw-"

"Pony, there's wasn't anythin' we could do. Tim saw him on his way out of town and came and got us. We got there just after the bus and… we just weren't in time to stop him."

I shook my head. "Out of all the things that could've got in your way, it had to be your timing."

"Well, I've never been perfect at that." Soda still somehow manages to make jokes when he's… well about ready to just keel over and give up. He needs to.

"Well, what're we doin' about gettin' him back?"

"I guess I should call the cops." Darry muttered. "They'll make findin' him just that much easier."

"Call the cops?" I knew Darry wasn't always the brightest, but this was a whole new level of stupid. "D'you got any idea what'll happen if you call the cops? With Motley's record, they'll throw him in reform school for sure, and they'll take Soda and me as far away as possible. You wanna try and explain this to the state, right on the heels of this last mess? You know what this looks like, don't you? It looks like you got no control over anyone in this house and we just do whatever the hell we want whenever the hell we want. You think they're gonna let you keep us?"

"Ponyboy," Darry said gently, in an effort to calm me down. "We gotta find him."

"Not like that." I shook my head. "It'll never work. We gotta find him ourselves."

"How?" Soda asked. "How do we find him? If you got any ideas, I'm all ears." He wasn't being sarcastic, he was sincere. He really was ready to try anything I came up with. He hated the idea of bringing the state into this as much as I did.

"We'll just have to follow him."

"Oh, no you don't." Darry jumped in. "With the state you're grades are in and all the school you've missed, you think I'm just gonna let you skip more?"

"But-"

"We can't just pick up and leave, Ponyboy. We're gonna have to try and work this from home."

"How the shit are we supposed to do that?" Soda cut in.

"Watch your-"

"Watch my damn language! I know!" He turned away, running his hands through his hair. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this frustrated, and it was pretty obvious he felt the same way.

Darry tried again. "Ponyboy-"

"Why can't we just go? That's our brother out there-"

"You said it yourself, Ponyboy. How d'you think it'll look to the state if they turn up for a visit, and we're not all here? We'll have enough trouble gettin' them to believe some story about where Motley happens to have gotten off to, let alone explaining why there's more than one person missing."

I stayed silent. He had a point, but that didn't mean I had to like it.

"We're gonna have to stay put and hope something turns up."

"What can we do, though? I don't wanna just sit here." Soda said desperately. "Not when he's out there by himself. You know how he is. He'll get angry at the wrong people, and before you know it, he's screwed."

"Don't talk like that. He'll be fine." Darry snapped.

I just shook my head. Knowing Motley, he would be anything but fine. He'd probably do exactly what Soda just said. Get in with the wrong people, wind up mad at them like he always inevitably does, then get himself killed.

"We don't have to say he ran away." Soda said suddenly.

Darry turned to face him. "What?"

"We don't want the state to think he ran, right? Well, we can just report him as a missing person and act like we got no idea where he went or if he wanted to go."

"You mean… make it seem like somebody took him?"

"Sure! I mean, what've we got to lose? It's still risky with the state and everythin', but it's better than he flat out ran away. They can't expect you to watch a seventeen year old boy 24-7. Sometimes there's just nothin' you can do. What could possibly happen?"

"A lot of things are wrong with everythin' you just said."

"I think we should try it." I said suddenly.

Darry looked over at me.

"I mean it. It's our best chance, ain't it? We can get the cops involved without totally screwing us over."

"If they find him, they'll know." Darry pointed out. "He could tell the truth whenever."

"He ain't that stupid. He might not wanna be here, but he knows it could get Soda and me thrown out if he tells anybody about it. He'll play along with anything they say. He's smart."

"If he doesn't want you and Soda thrown out, why'd he leave in the first place?"

"He's countin' on us to use our heads. Sure, he's not happy with you. But he knows we ain't completely stupid, and we'll be able to come up with somethin'."

"I dunno…"

"Darry, c'mon." Soda begged. "It's the best thing we got."

Two-Bit finally decided to make himself heard. "It just might work, man."

Darry sighed, looking around at us all.

"Alright. Let's give it a go."

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE! I'M BEGGING YOU!_**

 ** _It wasn't ridiculous, was it? I feel like I did something wrong here. I'm not as happy with this chapter. Better stuff to come, I promise._**


	3. Are You Lost?

_Author's note: Round three! I just turned in three huge projects for school, so at least I have time to do this. Either way, please enjoy and_ _ **PLEASE REVIEW!**_

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders is not mine, and there shall be a kind of sensitive topic in here. You have been warned.**

 ** _Chapter 3: Are You Lost?_**

MOTLEY'S POV

Yeah, I didn't get very far before I was out of money. I hadn't honestly taken all that much cash with me. I'd thought about raiding Darry's 'in case of emergency' stash, but I didn't have the heart to do it. They were probably gonna need that. People always seem to wind up in the hospital when it comes to us.

So, here I was on a lonely stretch of highway, trying to hitchhike. I wasn't looking to go anywhere in particular. Just as far west as they were willing to take me.

A car pulled over next to me. I froze, startled. I hadn't honestly been expecting very many people to be willing to pick up the hood walking alone down the street, so I had to wonder what they might want.

There was a middle-aged man in the driver's seat and a middle-aged woman next to him, with two kids, maybe eight and ten, in the back.

"Honey, are you lost?" the woman asked.

"No." Yeah, kinda. How was I supposed to know where I was?

"Where are you goin', darling?"

Darling? Honey? What was this? "West."

"Somewhere specific?"

I kept my mouth shut.

"Please tell me you're goin' home. You're mother's gotta be worried sick."

I shook my head. "I don't got a home anymore."

"Well…" She seemed torn between trying to make me go back to wherever it was I came from and just taking me where I wanted to make sure I didn't get picked up by a rapist or something. "We'll take you west a ways, dear. D'you wanna get in the back?"

I hesitated for just a second, then decided it couldn't cause that much harm and got in. The man restarted the car and we kept going.

"What's your name?" the little boy next to me asked. I think he was ten.

"Ace." That needed to become second nature, even if a little kid probably couldn't do much with my actual name.

"You've got a funny name."

I wanted so much to say 'you've got a funny face', but since I didn't wanna get kicked right back out of the car, I just gritted my teeth and said, "What's yours?"

"Lanny." He gestured to the little girl (eight?) next to him. "And that's Laura."

Lanny and Laura. Nice. Real nice. "That's cool."

"Where're you from?"

"Nowhere."

"Nobody's from nowhere, silly."

Kids are annoying. "Well, I am. I'm special that way."

"But-"

"How about you? Where're you from?"

"Kansas." he replied, proud he could remember the name of the state he lived in.

Little kids are dumb as dirt.

"That's real cool, kid." I muttered sarcastically.

"Oh, like where you come from is so cool."

Damn, this one had an attitude. "Cooler than where you come from, I'll bet."

"I bet it's more dangerous where I live."

"Oh yeah? And how's that?"

"We have to watch out for tornadoes and cows."

Man, this kid needed to get out and live a little. "News flash: you gotta watch out for tornadoes every place that's anywhere near here, and cows can't hurt you unless you lay down in front of them and wait an eternity to get stepped on. You wanna hear what real danger's like?"

The kid looked interested, even though he was still kind of in challenge mode. I knew I should probably just shut up, but I was at the end of my rope.

"Real danger is needing to carry a weapon on you wherever you go so you won't get jumped and killed. Not for your money. Just for absolutely no reason at all other than they happened to be bored."

His eyes were round, but I wasn't finished.

"Real danger is hoping to hell you don't get shot and killed working in a store or gas station or bar, or most anywhere, really. Real danger is being shoved into a school with people who hate you with every fiber of their being and would really rather you were dead. Even if they don't know you. Real danger is having to look over your damn shoulder every damn minute of your damn life just so you won't die."

The whole car was silent. I sat back in the seat, folded my arms, and looked out the window. I was done with these stupidass sheltered kids and their stupidass sheltering parents. Hopefully I'd scared the little shit enough that if I ignored him, he'd leave me alone. And he did.

The little girl, on the other hand, did not.

She climbed right over her brother and shoved him out of the way. "If you've always got a weapon, you got one now?"

I smirked and pulled out my switch.

The woman in the front screamed. "Put that away!"

I shrugged and slipped it back in my pocket. "It's not like I'm gonna kill anyone with it. Besides, she asked to see it."

She was watching me like she was really seeing me for the first time. I wasn't the lost teenage boy wandering down the highway. I was the dirty hood who'd obviously run away. "So it's completely normal to show an eight-year-old girl a weapon whenever she asks wherever it is you come from?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I mean, if you're on the right side of town."

"What does that mean?"

"I thought it was pretty obvious. If you're on the westside with all the others, then no. Not normal. If you're on the eastside with all of us, then yeah. Completely normal."

"You depraved hood."

"Hey, no need for name calling. You're the one who let me into your car."

It was pretty obvious she was rethinking said decision. And really regretting that she'd put me in the back next to her kids. "You just leave my children alone. I'm not about to dump a child out on the streets to get hurt or heaven knows what else, no matter how bad they may be, but that doesn't mean you need to get familiar with my kids. You just sit back there and keep your mouth shut."

"The kid talked first. Tell him to keep his mouth shut."

"Just… just do as I say."

I raised my eyebrow. "Just do as someone says… yeah, I remember doin' that once." Should I have been mouthing off to my ride? No. Did I care?

Not really.

The man at the wheel pulled over to the side of the road and spoke for the first time. "Get out."

"Hank, there's any number of strange people…"

"Nobody acts like that around my wife and kids. Get out."

I shrugged and hopped out. They were annoying people anyhow. The little girl waved at me from the backseat as they pulled back out into the road and drove away. She was the only one in the car that hadn't annoyed me in the end. Interesting. Usually I have huge problems with little girls. They're even worse than little boys, and that's saying something. That one was different though.

Well. Back on my way.

I continued wandering down the highway, sticking my thumb out every time a car came into view. Didn't happen as often as I would've liked, but I made progress. One or two other cars stopped and gave me a ride for a while. I wasn't sure exactly where I was, but I knew I'd been out here all day.

I was starting to really regret pissing off those last people when another car pulled up and stopped next to me. There was just one person in it, a forty-ish-year-old man.

"Hello, son. You lost?"

What was it with everyone and asking if I was lost? "No. Just lookin' for a ride, mister."

"Well, hop on in."

Something about the way he was staring at me made me real uncomfortable. He kept looking me up and down, like he was in the store checking out a steak or something. It reminded me of something else, but I couldn't think what. I was so exhausted that, against my better judgement, I climbed on in.

"So, what's your name?"

"Ace."

The man nodded. "Hmm. Beautiful name for a beautiful boy."

That was a weird thing to say. "What's your name?"

"Allan." He held out a hand to shake and I took it. He held on a second longer than was natural, his finger making an odd little movement against my wrist. Something was off here, but by now, I was so tired I couldn't figure out what it was.

"So, Ace. Somethin' bad at home that you're gettin' away from?"

I didn't bother asking how he knew. Everyone seemed to. "Yeah."

"Poor thing." He reached out and ran a hand along my jaw.

I shrank away, scooting as close to the door as I could. What the hell? Who does that to somebody they've just met? Or anybody at all?

He gave an odd little smile and reached out again.

And suddenly it hit me what this was.

Oh shit.

I grabbed the door handle and threw the thing open, pulling loose and jumping out into the dirt and weeds and rocks. I didn't care if we were doing sixty. There was no way I was staying in the car with that. No way.

I heard a crack and a sharp pain shot up my arm. I shrieked as I went tumbling through the dust. By the time I'd rolled to a stop, I'd lost track of what I'd hit on rocks and sticks and stuff. Definitely my head a few times. I dunno. I just felt like one big bruise all over. Except my arm. That felt like it had a knife sticking out of it.

I slowly sat up. The car was gone. He must've just taken it in stride and left. He was probably used to kids leaping out of his car if he couldn't get them pinned fast enough.

Must happen to him all the time.

I started laughing, hysterical with relief. Oh, man.

It wasn't like I hadn't run into some real pervs before. Looking like me and Soda do, you couldn't exactly avoid it. But I'd always seen it coming before now and hightailed it out of there. That was the closest anything had ever come, and I wasn't itching to repeat the experience. No more hitchhiking. I would walk all the way to California if I had to. Maybe find a decent train to hitch a ride on for a ways. But definitely no more hitchhiking.

Why was I still laughing?

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW!_**

 ** _Did I take it too far? I won't be taking that sort of thing any farther than this, I promise! Just the right amount of twisted or too much? I need your help here!_**


	4. That's What I'm Afraid Of

_Author's note: And here we go again. Sorry this one's a little short. It's a bit of a filler chapter, really. They suck, but they're important to a story. Oh well. Hope you think it's alright._

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders is not mine in any way, shape, or form. D'you honestly think I'd be here doing this if it was? I'd just go write a sequel or something.**

 ** _Chapter 4: That's What I'm Afraid Of._**

SODAPOP'S POV

"Go to sleep, Soda."

"Later, Darry, okay?"

"Just sitting there next to the phone isn't gonna make him call."

"You'll never know till ya try."

"It's three in the morning, and you still have to go to work tomorrow. Now leave the damn phone alone."

"No."

We'd had this argument at midnight, one, and two as well. You'd think Darry'd get tired of it and just go to bed, but no, he had to drag me away from the phone, my one means of contact with Motley. What if he called in the middle of the night and really needed help? Running away never ends well. He would realize his mistake soon, or get in a jam he couldn't get out of, then call for help. And I was gonna be right here. No way I would miss that call just because Darry wanted me in bed. Who cares if I have a job to think about? My twin's more important.

Darry sighed. "We still gotta go to court tomorrow afternoon, Soda."

I looked up sharply. "What're you talkin' about?"

"Soda, Ponyboy's still gotta go to court for runnin' away."

"Shit." I whispered.

"Language, Soda."

Man, if he says that to me one more time, I'll… I dunno. Something. "Have the cops got anythin' on Motley?"

"No." Darry ran a hand through his hair. "He was right."

"Who?"

"Motley. He said he wouldn't be found if he didn't wanna be."

"Aw, c'mon, Darry. How far could he've possible got?"

"A long ways, if he did it right."

"C'mon, Darry." What was it with him and saying things that killed my optimism? There was hope, wasn't there? We didn't just have to accept that Motley was gone and that was that. We didn't have to. And I wouldn't. I wouldn't.

Darry couldn't make me.

PONYBOY'S POV

"Tim!"

Tim Shepard turned to look at me as I ran to catch up with him. "Ya need somethin', kid?"

"I need to find Motley."

He scoffed. "You think you're gonna find him?"

I nodded determinedly. I was gonna _**do**_ _**this**_.

"Listen, kid. I knew your big brother real well. Probably better than you did. I definitely spent more time with him. And I'm gonna tell you one thing I learned about him mighty quick: he tends to get what he wants. If he don't wanna be found, you ain't gonna find him."

I wanted more than anything to tell Tim to go to hell, but I knew better than to be mouthy with him. Especially if there was something I wanted. "I get that you know him better, Tim. That's why I'm here talkin' to you instead of just doin' whatever I happen to come up with. I gotta ask you a question."

He shrugged. "Shoot, kid."

"Where do you think he went?"

"Well, let's see…" He paused, considering his answer. "He'll've left the state, that's for sure. He ain't stupid enough to stick around."

"Where do you think he went?" I repeated. I knew he'd leave the state. Anybody would. I needed specific information, not this.

"He probably went to a state he thinks is cool. He wouldn't go anywhere he thinks is stupid. Too proud."

"What states does he think are cool?"

"We made a list once, me, him, and Dal, when we were real drunk at a party. Uh…" He counted them off on his fingers as he went. "New York, New Jersey, Michigan, Texas, California, and Hawaii."

"What was his favorite?"

"How the hell should I know?" Tim was starting to get pissed with me. "I just narrowed it down from fifty states to six, you should be kissin' my boots in thanks or somethin' like they do to the kings in those movies you watch so much. Now, toddle on home and do what you want with what I've toldja and leave me alone." With that, he turned and walked away.

I didn't run after him, no matter how much I wanted to. He'd probably belt me if I did, and besides, he had a point. Six was better than fifty.

I turned and started heading home as instructed, no matter how insulted I was that he'd told me to 'toddle' there. I wasn't that little, and I wished people would quit treating me like I was.

"Kid!" I turned. Tim was walking backwards, actually looking a little guilty. "Cali!" Then he turned a corner and was gone.

California. Okay.

XxXxX

When I came in the front door, I found Soda exactly where I'd left him. Next to the phone. He hadn't slept at all the night before, and he hadn't eaten anything all day as far as I knew. The part of me that wasn't busy feeling bad for Soda couldn't help but wonder if he'd been this big of a wreck while I was gone.

Soda looked up at me hopefully. "Anything?"

"We should get Darry in here."

His expression intensified. "Darry! Get your ass in here! Pony's got somethin'!" He lowered his voice as Darry walked in. "Good job, kiddo."

I smiled proudly.

"So? What d'you got?" Darry asked.

"California."

"And who told you that?"

"Tim said it's most likely."

He rolled his eyes. "And we're just supposed to trust Tim Shepard's best guess?"

"It's the only thing we got, Darry." Soda snapped. "At least Tim's guessin' and Pony's tryin'. Unlike somebody else I could mention."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know exactly what it means, asshole."

Oh, here we go again. They'd already had it out last night. Couldn't they give it a rest? What could we possibly get out of fighting with each other?

This was so unlike Soda. He wasn't the type to snipe at people, especially Darry. And he'd told me he just wanted everyone to lay off each other. But I guess when it hits a certain point, all bets are off.

"Soda, we're all trying to get Motley home-"

"Like shit."

"For the thousandth time, watch your-"

"Shut up!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

They both froze and looked over at me, shocked. I really wasn't usually this vocal. About anything. But again, all bets are off.

"Would the two of you just quit? Fightin ain't gonna fix anythin', and if you're arguing all the time, you're too busy to find Motley. So can you please just forget it till we know where he is? We don't even have to have him home before you get back to it. Just know where he is."

Soda glanced guiltily at Darry, but didn't apologize. He looked back at me. "Sure, Pone. If it means that much to you."

Darry didn't say anything. Just shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at his feet.

Was it just me, or was that his solution for everything that made him uncomfortable? Put your hands in your pockets and don't make eye contact. Whatever works, I guess.

"Now, who's goin' to California?"

Darry looked up and immediately started shaking his head. "Neither of you two."

"You can't just go." Soda pointed out. "We kinda need somebody here to keep an eye on us, y'know. CPS would flip."

"Maybe-"

"I'm goin'."

"Soda, no." Darry said. He sounded so final I never would've dared argue. But apparently Soda didn't care.

"I'm goin', and you ain't stoppin' me. Tell em Steve and I went on a road trip. We'll go get him."

Before Darry had a chance to respond, I jumped in. "He's got a point, Dar. He's the only one of us that can get away with goin'."

Darry shook his head. "I don't like it. I _**really**_ don't like it."

"Too bad." Soda was steamed. There was no way he wasn't going. That much was painfully obvious. "Besides, Steve'll be with me. We'll keep each other in line."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

 ** _I know it was short and probably kind of boring, but I hope y'all liked it okay._**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW! IT MAKES THIS ALL WORTH IT!_**


	5. I Needed My Brother

_Author's note: I was gonna post this tomorrow, but I'm not gonna be home at all, so I'm gonna be real nice and post it today instead of making y'all wait until Thursday, so you're welcome._

 _Also, I've somehow never been to court. So if this court scene isn't accurate, please don't kill me. But feel free to point out anything I've done wrong so next time I wind up writing a court scene, I can get it right. Constructive criticism is always welcome._

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders is not mine.**

 _ **Chapter 5: I Needed My Brother**_

MOTLEY'S POV

I stumbled into a gas station somewhere just outside of Las Vegas. Teach me to try and walk through the damn desert. But I wasn't about to get in another car either, and I didn't have the cash for bus ticket. Let alone a bus to spend it on.

"Holy shit!" the blonde chick behind the counter gasped. "What the hell did you do, walk here?"

"Pretty much." I muttered, slapping a quarter on the counter. "Can I get some water?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't want anything else? Food or somethin'?"

I shook my head. All I had left was some spare change, and that was all going towards water, no question.

"Is your arm broken?"

I looked down at it. I'd broken it jumping out of that car. It hurt like a mother, but I couldn't afford to go to a hospital to get it checked out. Besides, if I did, they'd figure out who I was, and that wouldn't be good. "No. It's fine."

"Don't bullshit me." She put her hands on her hips. "You should go get that checked out."

"I'm fine."

"Well, here." She handed me some water and a sling. Odd thing to have in a gas station.

"I didn't pay for that." I pushed it back towards her.

"I don't care. You're takin' it anyway. It's free."

I looked at her more closely. "Nothin's free. What d'you want for it?"

"Nothin'. For real. You can keep it."

I shook my head but didn't question her further. I grabbed the water and the sling and walked out the door. If she wanted to be an idiot who handed stuff out for free without even asking for an IOU, then that was her business.

Now what? Vegas didn't look like it was that far away. It wasn't. Right? I mean, I couldn't just keep wandering around. It's not exactly good for you, apparently.

Where's a train yard when you need one? I could just hop a train and ride to California. Then everything would be okay.

It'd have to be okay.

SODAPOP'S POV

Ah, the american justice system. The one place everyone gets a fair shake.

Unless, of course, you're a greaser. Or black. Then… not so much.

It was almost like Darry knew what was going through my head as we sat there, waiting for the judge to come in. "It's gonna be fine, Pepsi-Cola."

I was too worried about Pony to get mad at him today. "Yeah, right. 'Cause everythin' else's been just sunshine and rainbows lately."

"Soda…"

"Motley used to call me that, y'know. When he was mad, and he thought I was bein' too… happy. Sunshine and rainbows."

"Maybe we'll get a judge who isn't biased."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"At least not in the courthouse, Soda."

"Seriously, though. What does it mean?"

"It means… well it's what most everyone is. They think the socs are better than we are. They're biased against us."

"Huh. You learn somethin' new everyday." I muttered sarcastically.

"Soda, if you can't shape up for yourself, shape up for Pony. He's nervous enough as it is."

I looked over at Pony. He was just sitting there, his elbows on his knees and his head bowed. His hands were shaking.

I nudged him with my elbow. "Hey, you okay there, kiddo?"

He nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Don't be scared. We could get a judge that ain't biased."

He looked up at me like I'd just declared the sky officially made of cotton candy. It's not like words like that come out of my mouth very much.

I grinned. "Darry just taught me a new word."

He shook his head. "Figures."

"Ah, so he hasn't lost the power of speech." I elbowed him again.

"Shut up, Soda." he said, but he was grinning.

I put a hand over my heart. "Oh, I'm hurt. I'm mortally wounded. How could you do this to me?"

He smacked my arm. "I'm serious. The judge won't like us messin' around."

He had a point. "Right. Sorry."

"All rise for the Honorable Judge Anderson."

I looked at Darry, confused.

"He means stand up." he hissed, grabbing my elbow and hauling me up five seconds after everybody else. The judge, who'd just walked in, threw me a withering look.

Well, it looks like we're off to a great start.

"Be seated."

Darry yanked me back onto the bench. "He means sit down."

"I know!"

"Shhhhh!"

I rolled my eyes. Just 'cause I had no idea what they wanted when they said 'all rise' (what, did they expect things to levitate? Stuff can't do that. Right?) didn't mean I didn't know what 'be seated' meant. I'd heard it enough times after the pledge of allegiance at school, back when I went.

Wait, when they did that, didn't they say 'audience please rise'?

Oh. Really should've put that one together. If I'd just stopped to think about it for a minute... Not that I'd had a minute to think about it.

Oh, whatever. Nothing I could do now.

The trial wasn't as bad as I thought it was gonna be. They interrogated the socs, and from what I could tell, none of them lied. At least, their stories added up with Pony's.

I was real proud of Pony. He kept cool and calm the whole time. At least, outwardly. Knowing him as well as I do, I could see that he was absolutely terrified, but nobody else would've picked up on it.

They asked Darry to the stand. He placed his hand on a bible and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help him God, then sat down.

"Darrel, would you say that Ponyboy is happy living at home?"

"Yessir." Darry wasn't in a very talkative mood.

"How about Sodapop?"

"Yessir.""Was Dallas Winston involved in your brother's mess?" Would someone please enlighten me as to how these questions made sense?

"Yessir."

"Was he a good friend of yours?"

He didn't even bat an eye. "Yessir."

"I see you reported your younger brother - Motley, is it? - missing?"

"Yessir."

"Could you tell me how you managed to let a seventeen-year-old boy under your charge just… vanish into thin air?"

Darry's jaw was clenched. "I can't watch him all day, every day. I have to work, you know."

"It says here he was last seen leaving the school in the middle of the class right after you were brought down to discuss a disciplinary issue?"

"Yessir."

"Did he leave because of you?"

"Not that I know of, Sir." I knew he was supposed to lie, but it still made me mad to hear him deny he'd done anything.

"I have to ask, do you really think your reason for not being able to keep track of him is satisfactory?"

"Objection!"

The lawyer ignored it. "Do you?"

"I do everything I can." Darry said. "But Motley's Motley, and whoever he's with, he's gonna do what he wants. And a seventeen-year-old shouldn't need his brother to babysit him all the time. He knows where to go and where not to go. I can't follow him around and enforce the rules all the time. A person's expected to have a certain amount of integrity. So yes, I think it's just fine."

There was a moment of silence.

"Thank you. You may be seated."

Finally, they asked me to take the stand. I made the same promise as Darry and took a seat.

"Sodapop, would you say that Ponyboy is happy living at home?"

"Yeah, for sure." How could anyone possibly question that?

"Are you happy living at home?"

"Oh yeah, man. It's great. It's a blast." I realized that might not sound so great. "I mean, there's structure and rules and everythin', but it's a good place."

"I see one of the people involved with your brother's… incident was Dallas Winston?"

"Yeah, Dallas had somethin' to do with it."

"Would you say he was a close friend of yours?"

I glanced at Pony. What if they took him away? What if they sent him to some hellhole of a foster home? What would happen to my baby brother? What if…

I was terrified, and I knew it showed on my face, but I also knew how to answer. Dallas may have had a lot of flaws, but if anything, he was a good friend. "Yessir."

"Thank you, Sodapop. You may be seated." Not one question about Motley. Interesting.

I couldn't get back on that bench fast enough. "How'd I do?" I hissed in Darry's ear.

"Great, little buddy."

The judge said that Pony was acquitted and banged his hammer thing and left the room. We all had to stand again. Then everybody started leaving, so I followed Darry and Pony out, confused as hell.

I waited until we were in the car before I asked. "What the hell does acquitted mean?"

"It means he's cleared of all charges."

"Oh. Okay. That's good." I wasn't sure what else to say. I didn't want to stay angry at Darry, but I couldn't help it. He'd chased my twin away. Maybe he'd never been real good at being sensitive or thinking about other people's feelings, but I hadn't expected this level. It was something else entirely.

Pony cleared his throat. "So… you and Steve are gonna go to California?"

"Yep."

"No, you're not." Darry broke in.

"You can't tell me what to do."

"Technically I can. You're not even quite seventeen."

"Maybe you can all legal like. But you can't make me do it."

"I could always tie you up in the basement."

"Yeah, can't wait to see how CPS reacts to that."

"Stop it." Pony broke in. "I swear, you two, if you don't quit it, I might just put a bullet through your brains."

The car went quiet. After a second, Darry just said, "Don't be so violent." And that was that. Nobody said another word until we got home.

MOTLEY'S POV

" _ **Baby shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo Baby shark doo doo doo dooo doo doo Baby shark doo doo doo doo doo doo Baby shark.**_ " I sang quietly, opening and closing my pointer finger and my thumb. Then I started clapping my hands together quietly. " _ **Mama shark doo doo…**_ "

It was a song, or game, sort of, that Soda and I had been obsessed with when we were little. We'd run around the house, doing the actions and singing the verses at the top of our lungs until Mom told us to hush if we didn't want a wooden spoon to become familiar with our backsides. She was always laughing when she said it though, so we never took her serious.

I'd found a train to hop in Las Vegas, and now I'd been in here for hours. I don't know why I started singing the song. Maybe 'cause I was bored. I just knew I missed my brothers. Soda, Ponyboy… and as much as I hated to admit it, Darry. But only a little bit.

There were so many verses to the song. Baby shark, Mama shark, Daddy shark, Grandma shark, grandpa shark. And when you were done introducing the shark family, you told the story. Going swimming, saw a shark, swimming faster, shark attack, lost an arm, lost a leg, cpr, it's not working, it's too late, went to heaven, and happy shark. Really, it's a long song. Probably a little twisted, but we had fun.

All of us.

Damn it, what was it with me and getting so sentimental? _**You left to get away from that asshole.**_ I told myself. _**It's nothing to sit here and feel sad or lonely about. Jeez, man, grow up**_.

So I just sat and sang my shark song quietly to myself, doing pitiful little actions and remembering my twin brother. Glory, I hadn't sung this song in so long. It wasn't cool. Tough hoods didn't sing songs and do actions, even if it was about a shark maiming someone and killing them. I'd shown Dal once when we were three sheets to the wind, but other than that, I was probably thirteen the last time I'd even thought about it.

For some reason, I felt like someone, somewhere else, was singing along with me…

SODAPOP'S POV

" _ **Happy shark doo doo doo doo doo doo Happy shark.**_ "

I finished the shark song and sighed. I had no idea what made me sing it. I'd just felt like I always had when Motley would start singing it, years and years ago. Like I should… join in. But that was ridiculous. Motley hadn't even thought about that song in years.

I was the only one who had. I'd sung it quietly to myself once or twice when I couldn't find my twin behind the person Motley was becoming. Usually I could see him there somewhere, hidden. But every now and then, it was like he didn't even exist anymore, and it scared me. So I'd sing the song and remind myself he was in there. He'd just taken a vacation for now. And the next time I was around him, I'd find him again, and I'd know everything was going to be okay.

"What made you think of that, little buddy?"

I looked up from my bed to find Darry standing in the doorway. I shrugged. "Dunno. Just.. did."

He gave me one of those weird looks he seemed so fond of giving. "You're nuts."

"Just now figuring that out?"

"So… you and Steve are really going? Even if I tell you no again?"

"Yeah, man. I'm goin'." Nothing was gonna stop me. Now more than ever, I just wanted him back. I needed him back.

I needed my brother.

 _ **Author's afterthought: Too cheesy? Just right? Help! I need your thoughts, for the sake of my sanity, please!**_


	6. Life's Bullshit

_Author's note: Hello, everybody! And how are we this fine Saturday? School's out, and life's great! Anyone else staying up late and watching Risky Business in the near future just because they can? Just me? Okay. Either way, enjoy the chapter._

 _COMING TO YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER IN THIS SET OF STORIES: STEVE RANDLE'S POV!_

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders ain't mine, and if anybody thinks it is, you need a shrink.**

 _ **Chapter 6: Life's bullshit**_

STEVE'S POV

"You're crazy." I said.

Soda showed up in my front yard with a car - I didn't even wanna think about where it came from - and some harebrained scheme to hunt down Motley. For some reason, he was convinced his twin had gone to California and that we could get him to come back. At least, that's what I got out of… all that. Soda can be a little hard to understand when he's worked up. He's starts talking so fast, and his ideas make no sense anyhow.

"I'm not crazy." He also gets real defensive.

"Only on alternate Tuesdays." I mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothin'. I just don't think this'll end so good. I mean, what the hell even gave you the idea that he's gone to California anyhow?"

"Shepard said somethin' to Ponyboy."

Okay, I felt a _**little**_ better about the whole thing. I mean, if Tim Shepard said it, how far off could it possibly be? But there were a few other problems. "What makes you think he's gonna want to come home with you? He left for a reason, Soda."

I'm gonna be honest with you here. I swear I've never seen Soda looking so desperate. Not when Sandy left, not when Ponyboy was missing, not when his parents died, never. "He's gotta, Steve. He's just gotta."

I shook my head quietly.

"No, stop shaking your head. Steve, stop it!"

"Soda, I really don't think this is gonna work out…"

"Please, Steve. It's almost our birthday."

That did it. "Fine. We can try. But if he don't wanna come home, I ain't gonna make him."

"Okay. That's more than fair." He was just so happy I agreed, I think he would've said it was more than fair if I told him he had to dye his hair pink. Soda'd do anything for Motley.

"I'll get some stuff. Five minutes."

"Sure, man. However long you need."

Yeah, he didn't mean that. He wanted me to hurry my ass up before he lost in completely.

So I did. I grabbed some clothes, a toothbrush, a deck of cards, and a lot of pepsi. If it were Two-Bit instead, I'd've grabbed beer, but Soda's Soda, and he never drinks. Well, barely ever. He has a few times.

"Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!"

"I'm hurryin', I'm hurryin'. I swear, you're like a puppy on crack." I grumbled, climbing into the passenger seat of the car. "Do I even wanna know where you got this car?"

"Probably not."

"I'm askin' anyhow."

"I passed by a certain Soc's house that had three cars in the front. I thought I'd… relieve them of one."

"Soda, you hoser."

"Hey, when I said a certain Soc, I meant that guy who jumped Evie and slapped her around in the alley."

"Thank you for helpin' her out." I said quietly. I don't even wanna go into how bad it scared me when Soda brought her into the DX, all bruised up and crying. "I don't think I ever actually said that."

"Hey, man, you were too busy worryin' about her. And I can't blame ya. I would've been too."

"Still, thanks all the same. And thanks for stealin' the bastard's car."

He laughed quietly. "Anytime, man. Anytime."

DARRY'S POV

One thing that never ends well: when Ponyboy and I left alone in the house together. Add the extended period of time, and it was just a recipe for disaster.

I love the kid. I really do. He just makes me wanna wring his damn neck sometimes, and without Soda around to remind me when I need to take a step back and chill out, things were getting a little outta hand.

Basically, Ponyboy'd locked himself in his room three hours before and hadn't come out since. You'd think he would've gotten hungry for dinner at some point, but he was stubborn. No matter what I said or how hard I tried, I couldn't get him to open the door or even just answer me.

Which is how I wound up knocking on his door at 10:00.

"Ponyboy, I get your pissed off, but c'mon, kid. Can we just talk about this?"

Silence.

"I know that what I yelled at you about was stupid, but I'm… I'm just stressed, kiddo, y'know? I'm worried about your brothers, and now I'm kinda worried about you. Can ya just open the door?"

Still nothing. Jeez, I'm sitting out here bearing my soul to the kid, and he won't even acknowledge me.

"Fine. I've respected your privacy. But if I gotta play the guardian card, then I will." I reached into my pocket, pulled out my switch, and jimmied the door open.

Ponyboy wasn't in there.

I froze, cold terror washing over me. Not another one…

That's when I noticed the note on the bed. I snatched it up.

 ** _Darry,_**

 ** _If you're reading this, that means you broke into my room and you suck. But, since I'm sure you're freaking out, calm down. I went out with Curly Shepard. I promise I'll be back by morning._**

 ** _Ponyboy_**

Well, that was a little better. Not much, considering it was Curly Shepard, but a little.

Sighing, I grabbed my keys and headed outside. I was gonna find Ponyboy and take him home if I had to tie him up in the back of the truck to do it.

Yeah, I wasn't expected the scene I found.

Curly and Ponyboy were sitting together in the lot, a bottle of whiskey between them and cigarettes dangling between their fingers, shouting "Life's bullshit!" at the top of their lungs.

When you gotta vent, you gotta vent.

Ponyboy looked up at me blearily from the ground as I came over. "Darry! What're you doin' here?"

"Taking you home."

"But-"

"No buts. Let's go." I hauled him to his feet. "Curly, you gonna be okay gettin' home?" Both of them were three sheets to the wind, and as angry as I was, I still wasn't about to abandon the kid in the lot like this.

"I'm fine. Tim'll come along eventually."

I really didn't like the sound of that, but I knew better than to question it. The Shepards do things differently than we do, and if that means Curly just counts on Tim coming along eventually, then so be it. I shoved Ponyboy into the truck and took him home. Instead of sending him to bed, I sat him down on the couch.

"Kiddo, what the hell were you thinkin'?"

He didn't say anything, just stared down at his hands.

"You can't just go around drinking whiskey willy nilly, you know that?"

He actually smiled then. _**Smiled**_.

"This isn't funny, Ponyboy. D'you realize how much trouble you're in?"

"D'you realize I probably won't be able to remember any of this in the morning?"

"Don't get mouthy, Ponyboy." I was so sick of smartass teenagers. First Motley, now Ponyboy. I thought Ponyboy would at least be better than his older brother.

I paused. I felt bad for thinking about Motley that way. It wasn't like he was less than Ponyboy in any way. He may've behaved worse, but he was a good person underneath. Ponyboy's a good person too. He was just scared and frustrated. His big brother was missing, after all. I wanted to be more understanding. I really did. The way Soda always was.

But he also needed to understand that what he'd done wasn't okay, and I didn't know any other way to do that.

"Go to your room. And leave that door unlocked, or so help me, you'll be grounded for a month."

He didn't even look at me as he stood up and left.

I sat down on the couch where he'd been. Why couldn't I keep any of my brothers under control? Motley bailed, Soda took off to California to find him no matter how many times I told him no, and now Ponyboy was out getting drunk with Curly Shepard. If somebody had told me a year ago that this was where I'd be now, with dead parents and in charge of rebellious teenagers, I would've asked where I could get some of what they'd been drinking. Now, it was the only reality I could imagine. A year ago…

A lifetime ago, really.

MOTLEY'S POV

California. Wind, waves, and sunshine. And chicks in swimsuits. Heaven on earth.

Unless you were currently sleeping on a hard bench just off the beach, in the rain, freezing your ass off. Or at least, trying to sleep. Actual sleep was a little thin on the ground.

Most anywhere else, the cops would've gotten on me for just parking it on a bench like this, but here in California, it almost seemed to be a profession. People were sleeping on benches all over the place, nobody else giving them a second glance. It was insane.

"Get off."

I looked up. Some bum whose face I could hardly see through all his hair was glaring down at me. "Why?"

"'Cause I want that bench, that's why."

"Sucks to be you, then, don't it?"

The guy grabbed me, threw me off the bench, and onto the ground. "I said get off."

"Asshole!" I shouted, jumping up, grabbing the back of his collar, and throwing him on the ground in retaliation.

He grabbed my legs and pulled me down with him, clambering on top of me and trying to get me pinned. I blocked his fist with my good arm as he swung at my head, kneeing him in the side. He grunted and rolled off. I started to get up, but he grabbed me around the middle, bringing me crashing back to the ground. I clenched my teeth tighter every time my broken arm made contact, trying not to scream. His hands found my throat.

"Worthless piece of shit." he snarled.

"Look who's talkin'." I gasped, my good hand ripping at his in an attempt to get them off, but it was getting harder by the second. As a last ditch effort, I bucked hard and kneed him in the groin, then made a run for it while he was still groaning on the ground.

I ran up to the first payphone I came to, then paused. Who was there for me to call? My initial instinct was to call Darry, like it always was, but that wasn't gonna do anything for me. Besides, I didn't want anything from him. So I just leaned against the thing and put my hands in my pockets.

Which is when I found the slip of paper with a phone number on it.

I stared in confusion. Why the shiz did I have this in my pocket? Whose was it? Then it came to me. The girl from the bus. Christine. She'd never said where she was going, just that she was going to college as far away from Tulsa as possible.

Well, it was worth a shot. I dialed the number.

It rang for a long time. Maybe she hadn't got where she was going yet. Besides, the chances that she was anywhere close were slim to none…

"Hello?"

Thank all that is holy. "Christine? It's Mo - Ace. You gave me your number on the bus, remember?"

"Oh, yeah! Hi! I'm surprised you actually used it!"

"I can go…"

"No! Good surprise. I just usually know better than to get my hopes up like that."

You and me both. "Look, where are you?"

She paused for a second, caught off guard. "Reseda, LA. Why?"

For once things were going my way. "Listen, I… I really hate to ask you this, since I only met you once and everythin', but I really need a place to crash. Just for a little bit, till I can get my own."

She laughed. "Benches not good enough? Those seem to be just as acceptable as houses around here."

"I just got in a fight and kicked off mine."

Another pause. "Are you hurt?"

"Not really."

"Well… okay. You can come here. But just for a little bit, alright?"

"Sure."

"The address is 19223 Saticoy Street. Can you get here on your own?"

I looked around for the nearest street sign. The one on the next corner said Saticoy Street. Could things get any better? "Yeah, I'll be there in two minutes. I can literally see the street from here."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

 ** _Author's afterthought: SHE'S BACK!_**

 ** _Anybody who can tell me what's significant about the address I just gave earns a lot of points with me. Really. I'll love you forever._**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW!_**


	7. Seeing a Ghost

_Author's note: Everybody ready for more?_

 _Okay, in the interest of not making you people feel abandoned, I'm gonna be gone all next week at this camp thing my mom's making me go to (I love camping, but this kind of camp and I don't get along) and won't be anywhere with an internet connection, so I won't be able to update. I will try to get something up on Monday, since I leave on Tuesday, but we'll see how that goes. Either way, please enjoy this chapter._

 **Disclaimer: if anyone has any confusion as to whether or not I own The Outsiders, you've been dropped on your head one too many times. (In case that wasn't clear, IT AIN'T MINE!)**

 _ **Chapter 7: Seeing a Ghost**_

SODAPOP'S POV

Steve and I stopped at a gas station just outside of Las Vegas.

"Maybe somebody saw him come through." I said.

"I wouldn't hold my breath, man." Steve can be so pessimistic I wanna punch him sometimes. Or maybe it's realistic. It can be hard to tell the difference every now and then.

"I'm gonna go check." I hopped out of the car and headed into the station. Some chick behind the counter stared at me like she was seeing a ghost. It seemed like enough reason to bother her.

"I don't want any trouble." she said quietly as I walked up to her.

"And I ain't here to cause any. I just got a question for ya." I flashed her a bright smile and she relaxed a little. Works every time. "I'm lookin' for my twin brother. Didja see somebody who looks like me pass through here?"

"Oh!" She smiled back at me. "That makes so much more sense. Yeah. He came through."

"For real?" I couldn't believe my luck. "Was he okay?"

"Define okay."

Uh oh. That didn't sound good. "What's the matter with him?"

"Looked like he'd walked here, for one. Probably could've used some food, but all he wanted was water. His arm was broken."

"What?" How the hell had he managed to break his arm?

"Don't worry, he'll be okay. I made him take some stuff to handle it."

"Where was he goin'?" A broken arm when you were alone was bad. I needed to find him.

"He just kept goin' towards Vegas."

"Thanks." I turned and ran back outside, jumping in the car.

"Jeez, Soda, slow down." Steve grumbled.

"I shoulda made you put money on it, man."

"Put money on what?"

"You said she wouldn't've seen him."

Steve sat up straighter. "She did? Is he okay? Where was he goin'? Wh-"

"Your turn to slow down, Stevie. He's… sorta okay."

"That don't sound good. What'd he manage to do to himself now?"

"His arm's busted."

Steve winced sympathetically. He'd had his share of broken bones, some from our stupidity, others courtesy of his old man.

"She said he kept goin' to Vegas."

He nodded. Maybe he couldn't do anything about broken limbs, but destinations he could handle. "Then let's go to Vegas and keep lookin'."

MOTLEY'S POV

I knocked on the door of the little apartment, trying to project confidence I didn't feel. She'd probably take one look at me and tell me to leave, being all busted up like I was. Shit, why did I try this in the first place? What was I thinking?

Christine opened the door and stared. "Wha…"

"Should I take that as my exit line?" Confident, Motley. Confident.

"No!" she said quickly, then paused and blushed. "It's fine. I just… when you said you needed a place to crash, I didn't think you were in this much trouble."

"I ain't in _**trouble**_. Just… not in a good place either."

"You get in here and let me clean you up."

I cocked an eyebrow, stepping inside. It'd been a long time since somebody'd said that to me. When I came home busted up from a fight, Darry usually let me handle myself. Something about paying the price for my own dumbass decisions. Besides, I'd made it pretty clear I hadn't wanted his help. I guess the last person I heard say that to me was...

Well, who'da thought. My ex-girlfriend from right before Mom and Dad died. She always was trying to take care of me.

It was a little apartment. Just the right size, in my opinion. I don't like being anywhere too big. It makes me feel out of place. I guess it's the Socs fault. Part of me was glad to see the small room, the little couch, the banged up TV, the dented table. It told me I was in the company of friends, not somebody who would look down on me for how much I had and where I came from. Christine hadn't seemed like the type to do that from the start anyhow.

"It's not much, but it's home." she said, gently pushing me down on the couch.

"Home don't need to be much." It really didn't. Home was where your family was. Not necessarily your blood family, but your family. Where you felt welcome and safe.

I couldn't remember the last time I had a home.

"How'd you break your arm?" Christine asked, bringing me back to reality.

"Run in with some weirdo. Basically, I jumped out of a moving car. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry that you're jumping out of moving cars?" She put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. "Just how heartless do you think I am?"

I didn't say anything, just smiled slightly. It was nice to have somebody wanna take care of me again.

"What's your name?"

The question caught me off guard. "I told you. Ace."

She shook her head. "Don't lie to me. Motley."

"How the hell-"

"I heard those people yelling at you at the bus stop. They didn't say Ace. They said Motley. Motley Ace Curtis."

"What're you gonna do, turn me in?"

She sat down next to me. "No. But if you're gonna be staying here, I don't want you lying to me. No more secrets. Agreed?"

Just randomly agree to no secrets with a stranger? How stupid did she think I was? We weren't that close. "How about just no more lying to your face?"

"Why?"

"'Cause I wanna be able to plead the fifth."

She sighed. "Good enough for now. But I'll get through to you eventually. Just you watch."

Challenge accepted.

"Okay, let's get you cleaned up."

She spent the next half hour trying to make me look less like some kid off the street who'd had the shit kicked out of him. She was going to college to learn how to be a nurse, so she even set my arm and did it up the right way. Apparently everything I'd done was wrong. Something about infections in cuts and bones healing the screwy. I dunno.

"This place has got two bedrooms." she said as she finished clearing up one last cut on my arm. "You can sleep in the other one if you want. Are you hungry?"

"I could eat."

She got up, went to the cupboards and got down bread and peanut butter. "Grape jelly or strawberry jam?"

"Grape." I love the stuff, though I don't go as far as Soda and put it on my eggs. Nasty.

She spread the stuff on and brought it over. "Eat the whole thing. You look skinny."

I took the sandwich with a smirk. "Yes, Mommy."

She smacked me upside the head. "Shut up. I'm going to bed. See you in the morning?"

"Yeah, sure."

And off she went. Damn, that girl had a nice ass. Though I probably shouldn't be checking out somebody who's letting me stay with her. That would be complicated on so many levels.

Sighing, I got up and went into the other room. It was about the same size as my one at home, which was nice. I'd gotten real good at moving around my room in the dark, what with all the times I'd snuck out, and I wouldn't have to worry about trying to figure out where the walls were now. I didn't want to wake Christine up for anything, which was weird, since I usually don't give a shit about that kind of thing.

I laid down and stared up at the ceiling. This place really wasn't so bad…

XxXxX

"You're so damn stupid."

I was sitting on a beach staring out at the ocean, and who should be next to me but Dallas Winston.

"I mean it. What the shit is the matter with you?"

"The love we got goin' here is overwhelming, Dal. Really."

Dallas grabbed my jacket and shoved me down, getting me pinned. "He loves you! Don't you get it? You're one of the only things in his life that he cares about, and you just leave! I get that you guys got issues, but c'mon, man! You can't just fix everything by running away from it!"

I shoved him off me and sat up. "You're one to talk! Which of us got ourselves killed _**on purpose**_ just 'cause we couldn't handle it when somebody died?!"

Dally's voice shook. "Shut up."

"No! You don't get to pull this bullshit with me! That was one of the stupidest damn things I've ever seen! But have I ever yelled at you about it?! No! I respected that it was your decision to make! Now wouldja let me make mine?!"

We sat there for a second glaring at each other. As weird as this may sound, we'd never had a real fight before. We just usually agreed on everything. I mean, sure, we'd snipe at each other every now and then, but this was different.

Dallas broke the silence. He pulled me to my feet by my shirt and threw me into the water. "I hope you know what you're doin' man, 'cause I sure as shit ain't gonna help ya."

I scoffed, the swells coming off the ocean hitting my back. "See if I care."

"You will."

There was a bright flash of light and I sat straight up in bed. I looked around the empty room, trying to remember where I was. Then it came to me. Christine. I was at Christine's apartment. Sighing, I laid back down.

I felt something wet on my face and reached up to brush it off. I was _**crying**_. What was it with me lately?

Besides, it wasn't like I'd actually just fought with Dallas. That was just a dream. All of it had been just a dream. People couldn't come back from the dead and talk to you in your sleep. That was ridiculous. It wasn't real, it wasn't real, it wasn't real…

I just cried until I fell back to sleep.

 ** _Author's afterthought: Questions? Comments? Criticism? Random inane thoughts that make no sense? All are welcome, as is anything else I haven't mentioned. PLEASE REVIEW! IT SENDS ME TO MY HAPPY PLACE! YOU DON'T WANT ME TO GO TO THAT STUPID CAMP IN A WORSE MOOD THAN I HAVE TO, DO YOU? FOR THE SAKE OF MY SANITY, PLEASE!_**

 ** _Glory, I'm sounding needy again. I'll shut up now._**


	8. Stop

_Author's note: Well, I said I'd try and get you guys something before I left, and here I am keeping my promise. I'm leaving tomorrow, so bye._

 _Now, read as much into this as possible, okay? This whole thing is pretty much one giant metaphor. You'll understand what I mean once you're done reading it. But for real, read EVERYTHING into it that you can. It's so much better if you do that._

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders is not mine. For the millionth time. If you haven't figured that out by now, you need to have your head examined.**

 _ **Chapter**_ ** _8: Stop_**

 **DARRY'S POV**

I'd never been one for nightmares, even when I was little. That was more Ponyboy's thing. But every now and then, when I felt like nothing could get worse, I'd have a dream that left me shaking.

And Soda and Motley's birthday was no exception.

XxXxX

It was dark. Just empty black space. There was absolutely nothing in any direction. Of all the weird places to be alone.

Then a voice came out of the darkness. A voice I'd had memorized since the day he was born. "Darry?"

"Motley?" What was he doing here?

"Darry, help me! Where are you?"

"I'm coming, kiddo!" I called desperately, following the sound of his voice.

"Darry, please! I'm scared!" He sounded younger than before. Almost as if he'd gone back a few years. I heard somebody moving around in the dark, like they were looking for something.

"Motley, stay there! I can't find you if you keep moving around!" I'd never thought I'd be in this position, unable to find my little brother in the dark while he screamed for help.

"Darry!" He wanted me. Even after everything I'd done, he wanted me to be with him.

"Motley!"

"Darry, help me!" He sounded even younger, like he did before his voice changed.

"Where are you?!"

A scream, one long unbroken note, rent the darkness. A child. Motley.

"Motley!"

"Stop! Please! It hurts! Please!"

"Whoever the shit you are, stay the hell away from him!" I'll be damned if I let anybody hurt my brother in a way that could make him sound like that.

And suddenly there he was right in front of me. He wasn't sixteen, like I'd last seen him. He was maybe nine years old. His hair was still longer, but that was back before he put any grease in it, so it flopped down in front of his eyes. He looked like he'd just had the shit kicked out of him. He had a black eye. A splotchy purple bruise was blossoming across his cheek, and there were more bruises in the shapes of fingers all over his arms. Blood ran down his face from his split lip and the gash above his eye. He reached his bruised arms out to me.

I dropped to my knees next to him. Who did this? Who could possibly find it in themselves to do this to a little kid?

I hesitated to hold him. I don't know why, but something scared me. Then I shook my head. There was nothing scary about holding your little brother. I started to reach out to him.

Before I could pull him in for a hug, he dropped his arms and turned away from me a little, hugging himself instead. Tears streamed down his cheeks. I was scared. He'd cried a little bit lately, but he was so vulnerable now. The last time I saw him like this was…

Well, it was when he asked me if I loved him.

"Motley…" I reached a hand out to him and he flinched away. I'd never seen him flinch in my whole life, not even after those Socs got ahold of him when he was eleven and beat him till he couldn't move anymore. Whoever did this had hurt him bad.

"Why did you lie to me?" Motley whispered.

"What?"

"You always say it'll get better. That you'll be there for me and everything'll be fine. But you never are and nothing ever is."

"Baby, that's not true."

"It's hopeless. I don't wanna feel this way, but… it's true. Life. Everything. It's all hopeless. Why do I even bother anymore?"

"Don't talk that way, kiddo. Please." I begged. He was scaring the shit outta me.

"I'm sorry I let you down." he whispered. "I know that's why you hate me. You believed in me, but I just couldn't do it. I'm sorry."

"I don't hate you. You can't believe that, honey. I love you more than just about anything."

He just shook his head. "You do all that, then have the guts to tell me you love me. Stop lying to me. Please. I'm so sick of being lied to. I just want the truth for once. Is that so much to ask for?"

"Motley, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'd take it back if I could. Come home, and we'll figure it out."

"Believe me, I wish nothin' ever happened more than just about anything." He sniffled, wiping some tears off his face, the blood mixing with them and making his tears run red. "And I wanna come home. I do."

"Then why don't you?"

"I don't belong there. I want to so damn bad, but I don't."

"Yes, you do. You're one of us."

He shook his head. "Not really, and you know it. You're all together, you, Pony, and Soda. I'm different. I'm worse. I ain't good enough."

"That's not true. Come home, baby, I'm scared for you. It's not safe." Heaven knows what could be done to him out there. It's a sick, twisted world.

"I'm just as scared as you." he whispered quietly.

"Then come back."

He shook his head again. "I can't."

"Then what can you do?" I was starting to get a little frustrated with this kid, even though I felt bad about it. He was hurt, scared, and bleeding. He didn't need somebody mad at him on top of everything else.

"Run away. As far away as I can and never look back. Then maybe it won't hurt anymore."

I wasn't used to this level of honesty from him. He was never this open. But you know little kids. They say what they're really feeling.

"You're not you anymore. You're not Darry. You're just someone pretending. I miss _**you**_. **_You'd_** fix it."

"Motley, please-"

"I wanna forget who you used to be. But I can't."

"You don't have to!" I finally burst out desperately. "Come home and everything can go back to how it used to be! We can be a family again!"

He laughed bitterly. The sound was so wrong coming out of a child's mouth. Nine was supposed to be an age of innocence. Not… whatever was happening here. "We can't ever be a family again and you know it. I don't got nothin' left. Stop kiddin' yourself."

"You got us."

"Not for real." He was smiling slightly, but not happy. It was more of an 'ain't life a bitch' smile. "You know that empty feeling, Darry?"

I nodded. I did. It was almost overwhelming sometimes. But then I would think about Ponyboy and Soda and Motley, and it went away.

"It used to come and go. But not now. I'm alone, and it's all I've felt for a long time. Wanting to be a part of our family and not knowing how anymore."

"You are a part of our family. You didn't need to leave."

"Yeah, I did. That was a long time coming, Darry. Ever since Mom and Dad, the whole thing's been falling."

"Is it at least… nice where you are?" If he refused to come back, I at least needed to know if he was in an okay place.

His face was unreadable. "I'm exactly where I wanna be. But I don't have you guys. I'm lost."

Lost? What the hell did that mean, lost? There were so many questions swirling around in my head that I didn't know which one to ask first, so I just settled on the one I really needed an answer to. "Who hurt you?"

He looked up, tears and blood dripping onto his white t-shirt. "You."

What? But I hadn't done anything…

I reached out a hand towards him, but somebody appeared between us, blocking the way. It was the Motley I knew now, sixteen and rail thin and angry. But he looked different. His eyes had gotten hard over the last nine months,sure, but now they were just… empty. Empty of everything but this all-consuming hatred.

Knocking my hand out of the way, he stooped and picked up his younger self, throwing a glare my way. The younger Motley reached out a hand to me. "Save me, Darry." He glanced up at himself. "Save me before he's all that's left."

I made a grab for his hand, but the older one turned and walked off without looking back, taking the kid with him.

I got up and tried to follow, but no matter how fast I moved, they seemed to go twice that speed. "Hey! Give him back!"

They just kept getting farther and farther away.

"I said give him back! He's my brother!"

I did my best, but soon they were lost in the distance.

"MOTLEY!"

 **MOTLEY'S POV**

"DARRY!"

I sat bolt upright in bed, shaking something fierce. What the hell kind of a dream was that? Why had I been so much smaller than usual? Why had Darry hurt me when all I did was ask for help? Why had he suddenly disappeared then reappeared from somewhere else and tried to comfort me? Why had I taken myself away?

And was I crying again? For real? Glory, Motley. Man up. You used to be so tough. I took a deep breath and quit. My eyes still burned, but at least I wasn't bawling.

The door to the room creaked open and a fluffy brunette head poked in. "Are you okay?"

I looked away. "Fine. Sorry I woke you up."

Christine didn't buy that for one second. She came and sat on the bed next to me. "What happened to not lying to my face?"

"I plead the fifth."

"Funny. Now would you turn and look at me?"

I didn't. I couldn't. Just 'cause I'd quit crying didn't mean you couldn't still tell I had been. I was rarely even willing to cry in front of my brothers, let alone some chick I'd just met. No matter how cool she seemed.

"Okay. I'll have this conversation with your back if I have to. Who's Darry? Or do you just regularly scream about milk products in the middle of the night?"

"My oldest brother." I muttered, running my hands through my hair.

"Y'know, you look like a dandelion when you do that."

"What?"

"It makes your hair stick up everywhere, and since you're blonde, you look like a dandelion."

I shook my head. "Great. Dandelions are real tough. Nice. You sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself."

"You don't have to be tough all the time."

Something about that made me turn to look at her. I studied her face. The naive confidence I saw there. The innocence. She was beautiful, but that didn't change that she was wrong. "Yes, I do."

"Why? I don't understand."

"Look, I know you came outta Tulsa too, and I don't know what side of town you lived on, but it must not've been the eastside."

"Why?"

"Because over there, if you ain't tough, or can't at least play tough, you die."

She stared.

I looked away again. "Sometimes you die anyway." I whispered, thinking about my best friend. Dallas'd been tough. Except for when it counted. Why'd he let himself care anyway? Why couldn't he follow his own damn advice?

"Motley."

"What?"

"You can talk to me."

I looked up again. "Why do you care?" I didn't sound mean like you'd think. Just legitimately curious. "I barely even know you."

She shook her head. "If I don't, who will?" Before I could make a move, she leaned over and planted a quick kiss on my cheek. "Go back to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

I nodded mutely.

She smiled as she got up, waving on her way out. The door closed behind her with a soft click.

 ** _Author's afterthought: Well, there you go, guys. See what I mean about reading things into it?_**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW! Or anything else random you can think to say. Whatever you come up with's cool with me._**


	9. Give It A Try

_Author's_ note: _Hello, all! Back from camp. The bugs... *shudders* you wouldn't believe. But there were some life guards at the lake we went to that were smokin' and I got a really nice tan, so I guess it was worth it. Sorry to keep people waiting for so long, though._

 _It just came to me that I still haven't mentioned that this story is loosely based on the song "Lost in Paradise" by Evanescence. It's a good song, and if you haven't heard it, you should go listen to it. You'll see why I felt it was perfect for this story._

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders isn't mine and I'm not making any money.**

 _ **Chapter 9: Give It A Try**_

CHRISTINE'S POV

I sat awake in bed a long time after I'd gone to check on Motley. The things he'd said since I met him... sometimes he made me wanna laugh, sometimes he made me wanna cry. Sometimes hit something. Sometimes he just flat out scared me. I really had no idea why I'd let him into my home and was treating him this way. There was just something about him that called to me. I guess it was like my mom used to say. I always wanted to fix everything broken.

Had Motley not been loved enough? Was that it? Or had he been loved too much, then lost it all? Was there really anything else that could make a person believe those things? Believe that they had to be hard and unfeeling for survival?

He was running, so home couldn't have been a great place. He said he didn't get along with his older brother. But hadn't those boys come after him at the bus stop? Hadn't he just woke up in the middle of the night screaming for the same brother he claimed to hate? Something was very, very wrong here. Something had gotten screwed up that shouldn't have. For some reason, I got the sense that this was all just one big misunderstanding.

I sighed and finally laid down. I'd talk to him some tomorrow.

I fell asleep smiling, the picture of him sitting there looking like a dandelion playing across my mind.

XxXxX

When I woke up the next morning, somebody was moving around in the front room. Frowning, I got up and headed out.

Motley and put some... interesting looking toast on the table and was setting some milk down. He looked up at me as I walked in. "Hey."

"Hi." I leaned against the doorframe, trying to figure exactly what was going on.

"I made you breakfast." He glanced at the toast. "Or at least, I tried."

"Thank you." I said quietly, startled. It didn't seem like the kind of thing he'd usually attempt. And the burned toast was proof.

He shrugged, for a second looking almost sheepish before he was back to his usual blank, tough look. "Thought it was the least I could do, since you're lettin' me stay with you and everythin'. But maybe it ain't a great idea."

I laughed, shaking my head, and sat down at the table. "Maybe not. But you're sweet all the same."

He stiffened for a second, but let it go. I mentally added sweet to the growing list of words not to use when talking about him.

"Maybe I should just..." he started tentatively, starting to pick up the plate to go trash the burned toast.

"Can I eat?" I grabbed the plate back from him, smacking him on his good arm.

"I dunno. Give it a try." he said, looking like he highly doubted it.

I smiled and gave it a try. Then dropped the toast back on the plate. "Nope, can't do it."

"That's what I thought." he laughed, taking it away. "Everybody does always say I'm hopeless at this."

"Was your mom a good cook?" I barely remembered at the last second to use the past tense. He'd said his parents were dead.

His smile faded and his face clouded over. "Yeah."

Another note to self: he answers in monosyllables when he's upset. A person shouldn't mention his parents if she doesn't want this reaction.

I should honestly write a book on how to handle this guy. What to do and what not to do. Then give it to his family. From what I could tell, they could've made good use of something like that. I got the sense that most people believed exactly what Motley wanted them to believe: that nothing meant anything to him and he was honestly just pretty bored and annoyed with the world. But for some reason, I could see right through him. He was like an open book.

"So, what're you gonna do today?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

He shrugged. "Dunno. Look for a job. Cause trouble. We'll see which one I find first."

"Don't go getting arrested. I can't bail you out."

He glanced at me. "I wouldn't expect you to." His tone was still cold. Wow. Really, **_never_** mention the parents. It's just downright dangerous.

"Look, just... be careful."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah."

"How's your arm?" New subject, new subject...

He glanced down at it. "Fine. Not great, but fine."

Well, that was just going to have to be good enough for now. "I'm gonna go get ready for school. See you tonight?"

"Yeah."

I took more care picking out my outfit that morning. Stupid, I know, but that guy was so gorgeous, he was God's gift to Earth. And I'd know he was watching me walk away last night. Maybe, eventually, something could happen.

Nah. Stupid thinking. We sure did get along though...

 **SODAPOP'S POV**

After we parked the car at a random motel, Steve and I walked through downtown LA, paying attention to every passing person. California was a big state, so we really had no way of knowing he was in LA and not San Francisco or Sacramento or Santa Barbara or something, but for some reason, I just had this feeling that we were in the right place. And that was good enough for me.

Not, however, good enough for Steve. "He could be anywhere, man. What makes you so sure he's here?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. I just… know."

"Y'know, that don't make any sense."

"Apparently I'm good at that. I think I remember an English teacher writing on my report card that I was 'obviously spouting drunken nonsense'."

"What brought that on?"

"I wrote a term paper on whether Elvis or The Beatles was better. He said to write a paper about both sides of a current issue. Apparently that didn't count."

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "I swear, Soda, you and Two-Bit are the only people alive who would even consider doing that."

"Not true. Motley wrote this paper once on the best way to sell his brothers and get the most money."

"Are you for real?"

"We were talking about slave trade. We all thought it was pretty funny. Teacher didn't, though. Something about him being an unbalanced sociopath. What does that even mean?"

"Hell if I know."

"What'd you write the current issues paper on?"

"Socs and greasers. He gave me an F. Something about making up words and it not being a real issue."

I shook my head. "Not a real issue, my ass. Man, you shoulda told me. Then I coulda gone and showed him a real issue."

"That's exactly why I didn't tell you. I didn't want you gettin' suspended for hitting a teacher."

"I wouldn't've hit him. Just made him see sense."

"You hit Ms. McDonald."

"I was eight! You ain't allowed to hold that against me!"

"Yes, I am."

"Okay, then what about you and the librarian?" Steve had belted her clean across the face when he was nine because she took his switch away from him and wouldn't give it back. Never did see that particular blade again, which was too bad. It was a tuff thing, dark blue and glossy. He'd stolen it from his old man's dresser and brought it to school to show me.

"That's different!" It was Steve's turn to be indignant. "She took my stuff!"

"Ms. McDonald hit me first!"

"Soda, all teachers hit your hand with a ruler if you're stealing other kids crayons. You're lucky she didn't do worse."

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up."

As we passed by this one bench, the homeless guy on it suddenly jumped up and punched me in the face, sending me sprawling to the cement. Steve grabbed the guy before he could do anything else and put him in a full nelson.

"What the shit was that for, huh?!" he shouted, shaking the guy.

I spit some blood out and stood up, then punched the guy in the gut. "What's your problem, man?"

"Think you can just bring a friend back here so you can steal my bench?" he snarled. "Well, I won it from you fair and square! Go to hell!"

I stared at him, more confused now than angry. "Man, I ain't never been here before in my life. You gotta have me mixed up with somebody else."

He shook his head vehemently. "No. Blond hair. Brown eyes. Greasy hood." He glanced at my arms. "And I guess this means the break was fake too?"

"Break? What's broken?" This guy wasn't making any sense.

Steve apparently thought so too, he just wasn't as patient with it, so he threw him back into the bench. "Get down and stay down." He grabbed my arm and started pulling me up the street.

"Steve, what was he talkin' about?" I asked.

"Soda look around." Steve gestured wildly at the air. "The whole world's blonde. There's gotta be fifty guys in ten feet of us that'd fit that description. He don't know who it is he wants to jump on for trying to take his stuff. It wasn't personal. Let's just get away from the psycho."

I nodded slowly, but something was still bothering me. I felt like I remembered something, it was right on the edge of my brain, but I couldn't quite get to it. Maybe we could go back and find the guy again later. I just had this feeling that he might have something important to tell me.

Steve stopped suddenly, nudging me in the ribs. "Check it out."

I glanced down the alley in next to us. There were two groups of guys down there, facing off. I knew what was going on. I'd been part of that scene enough times myself. Those guys were gonna rumble.

"Wanna go see if one of em can use a couple extra guys?"

I grinned. Sounded good to me. It'd been too long since I was in a good fight anyhow.

 ** _Author's afterthought: I want everybody's general opinion on romance. I don't know where I want to take things between Christine and Motley, and I could really use some input. Thank you._**

 ** _If anyone can catch the 80's reference in Motley and Christine's conversation, you're awesome. If you can catch the one in Soda and Steve's, then you're a damn well wizard and I love you._**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW!_**


	10. And People Say Hoods Aren't Friendly

_Author's note: Hi again! Thank you for the input on Motley and Christine, it's nice that you guys care enough to say anything. So, please enjoy this chapter._

 _I am in no way insulting people from California with this chapter. I love California, I've been there on vacation a few times, and I want to go back there to live when I turn eighteen._

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything here except Motley. He's mine.**

 _ **Chapter 10: And People Say Hoods Aren't Friendly**_

 **SODAPOP'S POV**

The guys with red bandanas that had black and white skulls on them did need a couple extra guys. The guys with the blue ones outnumbered them by a fair amount, and every little bit helps. They even gave us bandanas to wear. Said we could be members, sticking around or not. We tied them around our biceps. They sure looked tuff.

Steve and I took a place in line facing the other guys and I fingered my blade in my pocket. Back home I usually just fought skin, but these guys were rougher than that. I could tell just by looking at them. And if they were gonna be using blades on me, you'd better believe I'd use one on them.

Were we being stupid? I mean, we hadn't belonged to this gang for longer than five minutes. We were just two guys who decided to come have a good time. For these guys, this was incredibly important. They would fight harder than Steve or I would care to. If we weren't careful, we were absolutely screwed.

But I needed a distraction. Missing my twin, worrying about him, it was eating me up from the inside out. I couldn't help feeling guilty. Blaming myself. I should've stopped him. I should've found some way. Hopefully all of this would take my mind off everything. Darry may hate me fighting all the time, but what the hell. Darry wasn't here to stop me.

It was the thought of my older brother that really made me decide this was worth it. I loved him so much, but he'd been a stupid jackass lately, and I liked the idea of doing something he wouldn't be okay with.

This rumble didn't work like ones back home. There weren't any two people, one from each side, who started it. It was like both sides just had a voice in their heads that said 'Go!' at the same time and they all went for it. Steve and I jumped in a second late, startled.

Blades were flashing and kids were shouting and screaming. The people walking down the street at the end of the alley didn't pay any attention to us. We might as well have not even been there.

This husky blonde guy took a swipe at me. I barely managed to dodge out of the way in time, his blade grazing my shoulder. I retaliated by swinging mine and cutting a gash into his leg. Like I said, I'm not usually huge on knife fighting, but I needed to think about something else, and you gotta do what you gotta do.

Once my guy took off running, I tried to find Steve. I couldn't see him anywhere. There were too many screaming, bleeding teenage boys. That sucked, but the adrenaline rush was incredible.

Then I saw him. He had this other guy pinned and was slugging the sense outta him, both of their blades forgotten on the ground. There was another guy coming towards them, his knife out. He was behind Steve.

Which meant Steve couldn't see him.

Shit.

I ran forward and got in between them just in time, taking the knife intended for Steve's back on my arm. Nobody was about to stab my buddy and get away with it.

I screamed, 'cause you'd better believe that hurt, but then I just kicked the guy in the groin, sending him sprawling to the ground. Jumping on him, I started punching his face over and over and over. Show you to stick a blade in my arm.

I'm not sure how long I pounded on that guy, letting loose all the pent up emotions of the last month. Pony missing, Sandy leaving, Johnny and Dally dying, Darry being so careless, Motley leaving…

Finally Steve was yanking me off. "The rest of em are gone, buddy. Let it go."

It took a second for me to register what he was saying and I quit trying to get loose. I stood up and looked down at the guy. I thought he'd be crawling away, but he wasn't moving.

"Did I kill him?" I asked tentatively.

Steve bent down and checked his pulse. "No. Knocked out. Bet you messed him up good, though."

He looked back at me, smiling, then his brow furrowed. "Soda, you take a look at your arm yet?"

I glanced down. The guy's knife was still sticking out of it. I ripped it out and threw it on the ground, putting my hand over the hole it created. Great. Just what I needed.

Steve shook his head at me. "Real smooth, Soda."

"The asshole was gonna stab you. What'd you expect me to do? Grab some popcorn and cheer?"

"Yeah, yeah. C'mon." He grabbed my good arm and pulled me out of the alley, both of us giving the leader of the gang we helped out a nod as we went. He nodded back, flashing some gang sign at us that we didn't recognize, but I memorized immediately since we were a part of that outfit now.

And people say hoods aren't friendly.

Steve hauled me into the nearest convenience store. "Try not to drip blood on the floor, huh?"

"Yeah, 'cause leavin' a bunch of it everywhere was exactly what I wanted to do with my day."

"Shut up." He grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a needle, some thread, some gauze, and two bottles of whiskey.

I raised an eyebrow. "Two?"

"One for me, one for you."

"I guess that's not a bad idea." It was pretty obvious he was planning on sewing up my arm and just hoping to hell it didn't get infected.

The chick at the counter just raised an eyebrow and sold us the stuff. Didn't even ID us. Damn, this place was relaxed. I mean, I'd heard that they just ran around shouting 'gnarly, dude!' and didn't care about much else but catching the perfect wave around here, but I didn't think they'd sell hard liquor to people who were obviously minors.

On our way out, Steve sighed contently. "I love this place."

"We'll have to come back later." I sat down on a crate outside the store and Steve took the other one, handing me a bottle.

"Take a swig and let's do this thing."

 **MOTLEY'S POV**

I was walking down the street when I saw Soda and Steve sitting on crates outside a grocery store. I couldn't tell what they were doing, but it was painfully obvious Soda wasn't enjoying it.

I didn't stick around to find out more. I turned tail and took off in the other direction.

What the shit were Soda and Steve doing here? Had I really been that sloppy? I hadn't given my real name to anyone accept Christine, and that was after I already got here. I'd switched cars. I'd only taken one bus. I'd hopped a damn train for pity's sake! There was no possible way they could've followed me here.

And yet here they were, so I guess they found a way. I smiled in spite of myself. That was Soda for you. If he wanted something, he was gonna find a way to get it, and you'd better believe he'd be dragging Steve along for the ride. By now, those two were closer than we were.

That wiped the smile right off my face. I really wasn't sure how we'd gotten here. My twin was closer to Steve than he was to me. That just wasn't right. Man, it didn't used to be this way.

I ducked into a bar. I needed to stop thinking like this. I needed to stop thinking at all. So I got down to one of my favorite pastimes: drinking myself into oblivion.

Why was I so worried about all this anyhow? What was happening was my choice. I could've been like my brothers, wearing my heart on my sleeve, trusting everybody and getting my heart broken over and over like an idiot. I just knew better than to be that way. And as a natural consequence, I wasn't real close to them. So what? Isn't that what I'd wanted? Not to be close to anyone? Wasn't that the only safe way to be?

"Well, well, what have we here?" After drinking for thirty minutes straight, somebody finally said something to me. I looked up from my lonely booth in the corner to find Christine standing in front of me. She was wearing a short skirt that I found _**way**_ too distracting, an apron, and carrying a tray covered in empty glasses.

"You work here?" I slurred.

"Wish I didn't, but I have to make money somehow. A better question is: what're you doing here?"

I held up my bottle. "What's it look like I'm doin'?"

"Something you shouldn't."

"Yeah, well, I'm real good at that."

"Something's bothering you."

"Who says I don't like just sitting and drinking every now and then?"

"I'm sure you do, but it's also painfully obvious that's not why you're here. So don't bother lying to me. What's up?"

Could I never win with this chick? "We probably shouldn't talk about it while you're workin'."

She turned and shouted, "Larry! I'm taking my ten!" and sat down next to me. "Okay, go."

I shook my head. Damn. "Alright. It's pretty simple. Tell me if you can see this. I'm walkin' down the street, picture of innocence-"

"I doubt you've ever been the picture of innocence."

"Once. A long time ago." I paused, thinking. I had been once. But I sure and shit wasn't anymore. "Either way, picture of innocence down street, and what should I see but a certain carbon copy of myself and his best buddy since grade school sitting on some crates outside the local grocery story, neither of em lookin' very happy."

Christine put a hand over her mouth. "Oh."

"So now I probably can't go much of anywhere anymore, 'cause if he finds me, it's over."

"It's not like he can make you go home."

This was a chick who thought like me. "If it were anyone else, I'd agree with you. But it's Soda, and I got a real hard time sayin' no to him. If he begs me to come home and gives me that look of his, I'll follow him."

"Well then, we'll just have to keep you away from him." she said resolutely. "C'mon, let's go out the back and I'll take you home."

"That'll take more than ten minutes, though." I didn't want her to get fired because of me.

"If I flirt with my boss for five minutes, he'll forget I was ever gone."

The confidence off this chick was insane, let me tell you.

 ** _Author's afterthought: I know the idea of stitching your arm up sounds crazy, and yes it is, but it does work. Infection is a very real possibility, but still. Not pleasant by any stretch, but effective._**

 ** _See the trouble Soda and Steve can get themselves into? They're in LA for twenty minutes and they've already joined a gang and gotten in a knife fight. *shakes head*_**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW!_**


	11. Cool Your Jets

_Author's note: Hey, guys. So, we're finally going back to Ponyboy and Darry in this chapter. It's been a while since we've gone to see those guys. Please enjoy and don't kill Darry because he doesn't think before things come out of his mouth._

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders is not mine, no matter how much I wish it was.**

 ** _Chapter 11: Cool your jets_**

 **PONYBOY'S POV**

Darry and I weren't talking to each other. I know it seems ridiculous, but I was just so sick of him. Sure, I went and got wasted with Curly. Boo hoo. It's not like I killed someone or got high or held up a gas station or something. Of course, he didn't see it that way. He's only been this silent and stony with one of us a couple times. The last time was when Motley actually had held up a gas station and got drunk and high in the same night.

Before you start asking about that, let me explain. He was out with Dallas, got stupid drunk, then somebody put something they shouldn't have in their next drinks and, well, you get the picture. They jumped the guy that did it later.

Either way, I was just trying to catch up on my homework at the table and Darry was completely ignoring me. Even though I'd been asking him for help with this problem for the past five minutes. Maybe if I annoyed him enough, he'd crack. I started singing at the top of my lungs.

" _ **I'm Henry the 8th, I am. Henry the 8th, I am, I am. I got married to the widow next door. She's been married seven times before-**_ "

"Ponyboy, shut up." Darry snapped. I swear, he's still got PTSD about that song. Motley used to sing it to annoy him into doing stuff.

"I will if you help me out with this."

Sighing, he came and sat next to me. "Okay, okay, what is it?"

Well, at least he wasn't ignoring me anymore. That had to count for something. "This algebra makes no sense."

He looked at it. "That's just pythagorean theorem, Ponyboy."

I looked back at it. "But that's triangles."

"It's also - Ponyboy, it's also an algebraic equation. A squared plus B squared equals C squared."

He had a point. "Oh. I guess that's fair."

"You should know this, Ponyboy."

Great. Lecture time. I was starting to miss being ignored.

"I mean, you've been learning this for how many years? And it still hasn't been drilled into your head?"

"Well, excuse me for not being a genius. Maybe you should go to school for me." I muttered.

"What?"

I knew better. I knew I shouldn't have pushed it. But I couldn't help it. "I said, excuse me for not being a genius. Maybe you should go to school for me."

"Oh, believe me, kid, if it were up to me, school is exactly where I'd be."

That hit something it shouldn't've. I was on my feet and couldn't remember getting there. "Well, hate to break it to ya, asshole, but it kinda is your choice! Call up the state and go to college if that's what you damn well want!"

Darry paled. "Ponyboy, that isn't what I meant-"

"Like shit." Wow, I was channeling Motley. Was this how he felt all the time? It was incredible. "We all know it's what you really want. You already got rid of two of us. Goin' for three?"

"Soda ain't gone, damn it! He's just lookin' for Motley!" One way to tell Darry's real upset: he starts swearing at me. And using words like 'ain't'. He tried so hard to train that out of himself.

"Newsflash, Darry: Soda cares about Motley more than you! If he can't convince him to come home, d'you honestly think he'll come back either? He'll stay there, and Steve'll stay with him, and that'll be that!"

The front door opened and Two-Bit came in. He took in me and Darry and slowly backed up out the door again. "I'll just leave ya to it." he muttered. He hated getting in the middle of this kind of stuff.

Darry went on like there hadn't been any interruption. "Ponyboy, I think ya oughta shut the hell up right now."

I glared at him. "That's the only thing you ever seem to want." I shoved my math book at him. "Here, Einstein. You do it, if you're so good."

"Ponyboy-" he started angrily, but I didn't give him time to finish. I just stalked back to my room and slammed the door.

Who needs that asshole anyhow?

 **SODAPOP'S POV**

Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow...

Never let Steve stitch up your arm. I mean it. He's good at it and everything, but even with whiskey, it hurts like hell.

But I forgot all about that when I saw a car drive past with a brunette and a very familiar looking person in it.

"Steve!" I shouted and jumped up, knocking his whiskey bottle out of his hand.

It was a sign of how much he cares about me that he didn't belt me then and there. Just stared at the whiskey that was now all down the front of his shirt and dripping off his leather jacket. He waited a count of ten before he said, "What?"

"Did you see that car?"

"No." His tone was more curious now. Bring up a car, and Steve will talk to you about it for hours. "What, was it a tuff model or somethin'?"

"No, Motley was in it!"

He looked at me funny for a second. "Ya sure about that? I mean, with a moving car, we could be chasin' anyone, and it ain't a good idea to waste time tryin' to follow the wrong person-"

"It was him, okay? I know it was. You think I can't recognize my own twin from behind?"

"Alright, Soda, cool your jets. Let's go back to that motel and get the car."

I shook my head. "No time. Let's go." I started off down the street.

Steve ran to catch up. "On foot? You think you're gonna catch a car by walkin' down the sidewalk?"

"Steve, have you seen the traffic here? Goin' back and gettin' the car would be slower than walkin'. We'll be able to keep better tabs on em this way.

He shook his head, but didn't question it. "Whatever you say, man."

People don't say that to me much. It's like they know that if they just do whatever I happen to come up with, we'll wind up dead. It was kind of a nice change.

So we followed the car. Each time we caught a glimpse of it, the more sure I got that my brother was in that car. But who was the chick?

We followed them to this apartment somewhere in Reseda. Not a horrible place. Not the best, but not horrible either. Personally, I felt like it was just right. Too fancy, and you feel uncomfortable. Like you can't touch anything 'cause you're afraid of screwing it up or something.

Steve held out an arm and stopped me before I could go across the street, pound on the door, and demand my brother. "Don't go right away, man. We should get a feel for the place first."

I guess it made sense. But that didn't mean I had to like it. "Steve, c'mon. He's right there. We're so damn close."

"Exactly. Don't wanna screw up when we've got this far, right?"

"I guess so."

"Good."

We sat down in the alley across the street, figuring it was as good a place as any.

"Y'know, we look like we're casin' the place." I said after about five minutes.

"Makes sense, when you remember that's basically what we're doing."

"I just mean we should watch it. In case the fuzz show up."

That made him pause. I had a fair point, and he knew it. "Look, if the fuzz come by, we'll book it and go up that fire escape. It's not like they can catch us once we're up on the roof. Nobody's as good at gettin' across roofs as us."

I smiled, remembering our… activities of a few years ago. That had been an interesting summer. "Yeah, we are pretty damn good at that, ain't we?"

After another long pause, Steve said, "Soda, what exactly are you plannin' on sayin' to him? I mean, he went through all this trouble. It's not like he's gonna just go home."

"I dunno what I'm gonna say to him."

"You're twins, man. Shouldn't you know him well enough that you at least got some idea of what to say to him?"

"That's just it, Steve. I do know him. Better than I care to admit. And you never know exactly what's gonna work with him. Sometimes he needs to hear one thing. Sometimes he needs to hear another thing. You gotta read him in the moment."

"Sounds hard."

"Well, it sure does keep ya on your toes."

"There's nothin' you can say to him every time?"

"Well… there is one thing he always needs to hear, since I think he forgets anybody actually feels that way sometimes."

"What?"

"I love you."

 ** _Author's afterthought: So, guys who caught the reference in here today? Technically it's not an 80's reference because the movie came out in 1990, but it's got one of my favorite people ever in it, so whatever._**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW! IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!_**


	12. Just Us

_Author's note: I am going to again request that we remember that Darry is awesome. He's a wonderful person, I love him so much, and I feel like he gets an unfair rap because he's such a hardass. Nobody's perfect, guys. Jeez. But I'm gonna make him sound horrible, so forgive me!_

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders is not mine. Major frustration in this chapter, I'm sorry.**

 _ **Chapter 12: Just Us**_

 **SODAPOP'S POV**

I'm not sure exactly how long we sat there, but after awhile, I decided it was long enough.

"I'm goin' up there, Steve."

"D'you want me to come, or…"

"I think I oughta do this alone. Thanks for offerin', though, buddy." I slapped him on the shoulder and hurried across the street to the apartment.

A brunette chick answered the door, only opening it wide enough for her face to peek through. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah. I'm lookin' for Motley."

"He's not here anymore."

"What?" That was ridiculous. We'd watched the house the whole time. "What d'you mean, he ain't here? Where the hell is he?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I see the resemblance."

"Shut up." I snapped, running a hand through my hair. Normally I wouldn't be mean to a girl, but damn it, I just didn't have this kind of patience. "Answer my question, wouldja?"

"He left out the back."

Well, I felt like a complete idiot. Why hadn't I thought about a back way out? Stupid, Soda. Stupid, stupid, stupid. People called me dumb when I was little for a reason. "Where's he goin'?"

"Nowhere."

"Lookit, bitch, I really ain't in the mood for this. That's my brother out there, and I aim to find him. Now where's he goin'?"

She looked scared. "Seattle."

I felt bad for a second. I shouldn't be scaring girls. Mom and Dad drilled that into my head from day one. Respect women. But this was for Motley, so all bets were off. I was gonna do what I had to do. "Thanks."

I hurried back across the street to Steve.

"Well?" he said impatiently.

"He left out the back. He's goin' to Seattle." I hauled him to his feet and we started back off towards the motel where we left the car.

Steve looked impressed. "The hell you say to her to get her to tell ya that?"

"I got my ways." Maybe I was doing what I had to, but I sure wasn't proud of scaring a girl. She didn't deserve it. Honestly, I probably should've thanked her. Motley couldn't have been in great shape when he showed up there, so she must've helped him out a fair amount.

Maybe I could come back and thank her later, when I didn't have so much to do.

 **MOTLEY'S POV**

"Seattle?" I whispered, coming out from my hiding place behind the couch, careful not to hit my arm against it.

Christine shut the door behind her. "First place I could think of."

We'd seen Soda and Steve following us pretty much as soon as we turned the corner. They may be good at knowing who's inside a car, but they sure are lousy at sneaking. And let's face it: an alley across the street is just about the most obvious place you could choose if you were casing a building.

Christine looked at me more closely. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. In truth, I wasn't really okay. I loved Soda and I missed him, and seeing him at the door asking for me, hearing his voice… it'd taken all the willpower I had not to just run up to him, hug him, and never let go.

At least, until I reminded myself that while he wanted me at home, Darry sure didn't. I mean, wasn't that obvious just by the fact that it was Soda and Steve who'd come looking for me? Darry didn't care. He'd never cared.

It's funny just how much emotion watching one five second conversation can bring up.

Christine saw right through me, as per usual. I really don't know why it is that I could fool everyone else but not her. She sat down next to me. "Right. Again, not lying right to my face. Remember?"

I didn't say anything. She was right, of course. I said I wouldn't lie to her face. But I didn't wanna answer. Honestly, the fifth amendment was starting to be my very favorite.

"Motley, if you miss him, call him. Talk to him."

"In case you hadn't noticed, he ain't around a phone right now."

"What about the little one you mentioned? Ponyboy? Call him. I know you miss him too."

"What if Darry picks up?"

"Hang up."

I shook my head, laughing a little in spite of everything. "You know, I probably woulda got there eventually."

"I know. I just thought I'd hurry the process along." Smiling, she handed me the phone. "Now call that kid."

I dialed home and waited. After about nine rings someone picked up. "Hello?"

Ponyboy. Thank all that is holy. "Hey, Pone. It's me."

Dead silence.

"Ponyboy?"

"Motley. Holy crap, I've been so damn scared."

"Hey, just 'cause I ain't around don't mean the Socs are gonna be able to get at you. The gang-"

"I ain't scared for me, Motley. I'm scared for you."

Scared for me? This was new. "You… you are?"

"Of course I am! I love you!"

"I love you too." I don't say that to him enough. But how can I, when I'm supposed to be tough? If you're tough, you don't love. "I just… didn't think you'd worry about me."

"Of course I'm worried about you. We all are."

I thought of Darry. "Yeah. Right."

"Motley, can you just come home?" I hate it when Ponyboy begs me. He sounds so desperate that it's one of the hardest things in the world to say no to. At least he couldn't do his begging-eyes thing, since I couldn't actually see him. "Please. You don't have to deal with Darry. Just come be with Soda and me."

I shook my head, forgetting he couldn't see me. "Ponykid, for real, I can't. So don't ask again."

He was quiet for a second. "Alright."

Well, at least he's got half a brain. Always knew he was smart. "Least I can do, kid, after leavin' you in the lurch like that. You guys did come up with a good excuse, didn't ya?"

"We managed to pull it off. It was hard, but, y'know."

"So, how're things with you?"

"Okay. I mean, Darry and me're at each other's throats, but what else is new? Um… I went to court."

"Oh shit, I'm sorry, Ponyboy. I completely forgot about that. I shoulda stuck around long enough to come."

"Don't sweat it, Motley. We all forget stuff. Soda did too."

"Did it work out okay?"

"Yeah, everythin's fine. Soda sure was confused, though. None of it made much sense to him."

"Sounds like him." I'd been to court, obviously, for stuff I've done and to support Dallas, and I was completely at home in that setting, but Soda hadn't really ever been. Darry never let him come when I was on trial. I really wasn't sure why. None of them came. It was always just me and Dal, since he came for me too. I guess that's where the divide between me and my brothers was most noticeable. In the end, they weren't there. Dallas and me always stuck it out together.

Just us.

"Soda misses you somethin' awful. He spent hours next to the phone after you left. Wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep. He was so sure you were gonna call and need help."

Ponyboy was talking like Soda was still home. He was bound to know Soda was out looking for me. He was covering it up so I wouldn't know. Well, okay, two can play at that game.

"Can I talk to him?"

"He's out right now." The kid always has been a smooth liar.

"Well-"

Before I could finish, Ponyboy cut me off. "Shit, Darry's home. Gotta go." And the line went dead.

 **DARRY'S POV**

I came in from my date with Cealia just as Ponyboy put the phone down. I knew better than to get my hopes up, but I couldn't help asking. "Who was on the phone?"

"No one. Wrong number."

After looking at his face carefully for a second, I said, "Okay. If you say so. Now go do your homework."

He scowled at me, but went back to his bedroom anyway.

I sat down in the armchair and picked up the paper, but I wasn't really reading it. I had no way to know if Ponyboy was lying to me. I used to be able to tell so easy, but he'd gotten better and better at it, and now Soda was the only one who could ever guess when he was lying, and that was because he'd just feel a little uneasy. The kid was so slick, it was unbelievable. I don't know where he gets it from. Mom and Dad weren't real good liars. He must've spent too much time with Dallas and Motley. They were the two best liars I'd ever met.

And besides, I didn't know if Ponyboy would lie to me about Motley calling or not. He wanted his big brother home just as much as the rest of us, but there was also that unfortunate loyalty hang up we all seemed to get stuck with. If Motley made him promise not to tell, he wouldn't tell. And besides, him and me being in the place we were, he might just keep that from me out of spite. It's the principle of the thing, after all.

I sighed. What was I supposed to do with all of this? I swear, this gets harder every day, courtesy of the screw ups I call brothers.

I paused, feeling horrible. Screw ups? They weren't screw ups. I mean, sure, they screwed up sometimes, but over all, they were good kids. Well, Soda did drop out and never took anything seriously enough. Didn't think before he acted. And Motley was like a one man army. And had the same impulsive decision problem as Soda, making him twice as dangerous. And Ponyboy was so spacey and stubborn that he was either gonna get himself killed, or I was gonna kill him. They had their bad qualities. But that didn't make them screw ups, did it?

Honestly, I wasn't sure, and that scared me. I needed to stop thinking about them like this. It was reminding me too much of when I was in high school.

See, all my friends had been the guys on the football team, and all of them were Socs, so I'd tried desperately to leave being a greaser behind. I was ashamed of it. And ashamed of my brothers. I'd be nice to their faces, but when I was alone with my friends, to make sure they understood that I didn't like greasers, just like them, I'd bad mouth my family. Talk about my ratty little greaser brothers. How they didn't matter to me.

I felt so horrible about that. I'd been wrong. An idiot teenager who cared more about his image than his family.

Problem was, all this was bringing it back. Screw ups was one of my favorite things to call them back then. And here I was thinking it to myself. Maybe Mom was right when she said that eventually the things we say and do become a part of who we are.

But I was better than that now. I had to be. I'd learned how important my family was. How much they meant to me, even if it didn't seem like it sometimes.

I was jolted out of my thoughts by the phone ringing. I picked it up as fast as possible. "Hello?" Please let it be Motley…

"Hey, Darry. It's Soda."

Well. Disappointment. "Hey, Soda. How're things goin'?"

"Alright. Steve and I are in LA."

"Any luck?"

"We met this chick he was staying with for a bit. Sounds like he took off to Seattle."

"Well, get going!" I shouldn't've been snapping at him, but I was still ashamed of myself for ever treating my brothers so bad and for thinking of them as screw ups just now and for everything I'd done to Motley. I wanted him back so I could make things right.

"I'm goin', I'm goin'." Soda sounded surprised and a little hurt. Resentful.

"Pepsi-Cola, I'm sorry-"

The line went dead.

 ** _Author's afterthought: Don't hate him, please. He's trying. Failing, but trying, and that's gotta count for something._**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW!_**


	13. Who's Dal?

_Author's note: Happy 4th of July, everyone! Thank you to all our soldiers serving our country. You make America what it is._

 _Also, happy Tom Cruise's birthday yesterday! Was I the only one who watched Top Gun to celebrate, or were there others?_

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders isn't mine, okay? Just thought I'd clear that up.**

 ** _Chapter 13: Who's Dal?_**

 **MOTLEY'S POV**

I went out and got a job the next day. I wasn't all that careful around town, but whatever. Soda and Steve would be on their way to Seattle. Knowing them, they wouldn't've wasted a second getting a move on.

It wasn't actually a half bad job. Not exactly legal, but not bad. It was at the same place Christine worked, that bar downtown. They didn't have any bouncers, so Christine talked me up, I went in there and showed the boss a thing or two, and the job was mine. Even with the busted arm.

Yeah. I'm just that good.

I was supposed to just hang around, blend in with the customers, and break up any potential fights. Kicking out minors wasn't in my job description. They didn't bother with that here. Our boss thought that any kid with enough guts to walk into a bar had enough guts to drink. It was a nice policy. I wished more bars back home had taken that approach.

So I sat down at the bar that morning and had a beer. I had a limit to how much I could drink, since the boss wanted me to stay sober enough to actually be able to do my job, but taking one beer out of my three beer limit wasn't gonna kill anyone. I'd have one now and a couple around dinner time. Easy.

It was lonely. I mean, the drunks that inhabit bars during the day were nice enough, but I wanted somebody who could actually have a coherent conversation with me. You know, since I couldn't get drunk enough that they're conversations seemed coherent. Too bad Christine wouldn't be getting in until about two. I had a little time to kill.

"Curtis?"

I looked up, startled. Who would call me that here? I locked eyes with a greaser in the back. If I remembered right, he looked kind of like one of Shepard's boys that I ran with one summer. What was he doing here? I got up and walked over to him, curiosity getting the better of common sense.

"Take a seat, man." he said, patting the bench and smiling at me like we were best friends. It was kind of weirding me out, but I sat anyhow. This was a guy from home. That had to count for something.

"What're you doin' here? Don't you run with Shepard?"

"I did."

That didn't sound good. People didn't just walk out of Tim's gang. They either got thrown out and beat up, maybe killed, or they tried to walk out, got beat up, maybe killed, then thrown out. Both options are pretty similar, but they were just about the only way to get out of Tim's gang after you got in. "What'd you do?"

"Nothin'. I just felt like moving to California, and I can't really see how it's any of Tim's business."

"I sure hope you didn't say that to him." Tim considered the business of anyone in his gang his business. I guess it was a good policy. People can't let other things get in the way of what you consider more important if you know everything about them. Know how to talk them down, know who to threaten, you know, that kind of thing.

"Nah, I ain't that stupid." the guy said. I couldn't for the life of me remember his name. "I just got out. Hopefully he won't find me. What about you? It ain't like this is your neck of the woods either."

"Sometimes you just need space, man. Savvy?"

Some of the guys in Tim's outfit are pretty damn dumb, but this one wasn't. Drunk? Yes. But stupid? No. He knew better than to keep asking me questions about something I obviously didn't want to talk about.

"What are the odds we'd end up in the same bar?" He was hitting that point on a bender where everything is funny.

"Well, I work here now, so if you keep comin', it'll happen twice as often as you thought it would." Friday and Saturday. The two best days to get completely shitfaced.

The guy shook his head. "Not just twice. Seven times. I come in here every day."

Well, that was a sure sign of a drunk if I've ever heard one. I mean, I won't deny that I'm a little heavy on the booze, but going into a bar and drinking most of every day, considering how early it was, was not my thing. I like control just a little too much for that. "Is there a reason you're drinking life into oblivion, or just for kicks?"

He laughed. "See, I knew I always liked you. Just for kicks."

"Okay." I half laughed. He didn't catch that I was making fun of him. When you're three sheets to the wind, you tend to stop noticing stuff like that.

"So, you stayin' by yourself or with someone else?"

"Someone else." I said shortly. For some reason, I didn't want to tell him about Christine. Some weird protective instinct I hadn't been aware I had was kicking in. This was the not the kind of guy to let around her.

"You, shackin' up with somebody for longer than forty-eight hours? Shit, Curtis, you're a different person."

"I'm not 'shackin' up' with anyone. They're an old friend." That was stretching the truth pretty much to the breaking point, but it was just gonna have to be fine.

I guess the guy just somehow knew I was staying with a girl, because he nodded and said skeptically, "Yeah. Sure."

"Why am I here with you again?" He was starting to get really annoying.

"Because I'm from home, and that's gotta count for something."

Creepy when a guy you barely know mirrors your thoughts. "Yeah, I guess it does."

"So, you're workin' here?"

"Yeah."

"The chick you're stayin' with work here too?"

Before I could answer, Christine came over and sat down next to us. "Hey. Who's your friend?"

I was about to say something, but the guy cut me off. "I should be askin' him the same question about you. Who are _**you**_ , princess?"

Don't punch him, don't punch him, don't punch him…

"'Cause if Curtis ain't enough for you, I'd be perfectly willing to… make up the difference."

I belted him across the face, knocking him to the floor. He stared up at me in shock.

"Out." I said quietly. "Just get the hell out."

And get out he did.

I sat down next to Christine angrily. "Who the hell does he think he is? Where does he get off talkin' to girls like that? I mean seriously, I've never…" I trailed off. I _**had**_ talked to girls that way. Plenty of times. I wasn't mad because he'd talked to a girl that way, I was mad because he'd talked to _**Christine**_ that way. I wasn't sure exactly what that meant or where things were going for us. I just knew that, whether we were ever anything more than friends or not, I wanted to protect her. No, not wanted to protect her. _**Needed**_ to protect her.

Man, where was all this coming from? I'm not usually the protective type, except for when it comes to Ponyboy and Soda.

Christine was trying her hardest not laugh at me. "You're cute when you're angry."

I glared at her. Cute was one thing I wasn't.

"Who was he, anyhow? He seemed to know you."

"He's from home. We ran around together one summer, but that didn't last real long. He's one of Shepard's boys."

"Shepard?"

"Tim Shepard. He's a good friend of mine. He runs this gang back home. His outfit and ours usually team up for rumbles and stuff. Hell, with two sets runnin' around, we ran half the East Side."

"Must've taken a lot of work."

I thought back on it. "Not really. When you got reps like mine and Tim's and Dal's, people tend to just listen to you."

"Who's Dal?"

Suddenly, I felt cold all over. Shit. Just shit.

"Motley?"

I shook my head quickly. "We - we should be working, not just sitting here talkin' about - about stuff." Man, I do not stutter. What the hell was this?

"Talk to me."

I stood up. "No." I walked over to the counter and set my beer down. I was not talking about this. No way in hell.

I glanced back at Christine. She looked like she wanted to follow me, get the whole story. I couldn't have that. I ducked into the boys bathroom. Not like she could follow me in there.

Though, knowing her, she'd find a way.

 ** _Author's afterthought: sorry it's not the longest or most interesting thing ever, but there you have it._**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW!_**


	14. Just A Little Too Far Away

_Author's note: How we all doing? Good? Bad? In between? This is a completely Ponyboy and Darry chapter, so I hope you all enjoy that._

 **Disclaimer: None of this is mine and I don't make any money off it, so please don't sue!**

 _ **Chapter 14: Just A Little Too Far Away**_

 **PONYBOY'S POV**

Motley called. I knew he'd said he would, but I hadn't gotten my hopes up. Honestly, I'd just doubted I'd ever hear from my big brother again. But he'd called, and that's what counts.

I was supposed to be doing my homework, but I couldn't focus. I just sat on my bed and drew pictures. There's no way I'd ever show them to anyone, they weren't the happiest pictures, but it was nice to vent. They were pictures of us, but we weren't happy. It was how we'd probably look to anyone else. Angry. Fighting. Hating each other. I knew that wasn't how it really was, but it sure felt that way sometimes.

I couldn't tell if I'd made the right decision when I lied to Darry about who was on the phone. What if that was why nobody ever found him? But would I want him to be found if it meant he'd probably hate me forever for telling? It wasn't worth that. He needed to come home on his own. Besides, what could anyone possibly do with one phone call? Nothing. Exactly.

So why did I feel so guilty?

"Ponyboy." I turned to find Darry leaning against my doorway. "I thought I told you to do your homework."

"I am."

"Don't lie. What's that you're workin' on?"

"Nothing." I said just a little too quickly, sliding the pictures under a notebook. They definitely wouldn't have a good effect on Darry.

"Pony, c'mon. You don't have to hide everything from me."

"I know." I looked back at the clear space on my bed. "But I got a right to privacy too, don't I?"

"That's true."

We just sat in awkward silence. We never knew what to say to each other, and right now was no exception. Especially considering how much worse things had gotten between us lately. Having Soda gone was turning out to be a big mess.

"Are you learning anything interesting at school?"

That was officially one of the weirdest questions I'd ever been asked. But Darry was making an effort, which had to count for something. "How to convince teachers I'm not Soda and Motley 2.0."

Darry laughed. "I never thought about what it would be like comin' after them. I mean, they just shocked the teachers comin' after me."

"It's not like it's a big deal." I said immediately. "I think they work out how different I am pretty quick. It's just the first couple weeks, really. Or whenever we have substitutes that've been through the school before."

"Substitutes never remember the kids."

"I want you to pause and remember exactly who we're talkin' about here. Is there really a substitute alive who wouldn't remember if they had Soda or Motley? Or both for that matter?"

"That's fair."

"I had this sub today, she had Soda, Motley, Steve, and Two-Bit all in the same class once."

Darry winced. "I feel sorry for that woman."

I started laughing. "You should. The look on her face when she saw Curtis on the role… I thought she was gonna pass out."

"I don't even wanna think about the damage those four could do all in the same room."

"Yeah, it's probably for the best that it's never spoken of again."

We fell back into that awkward silence. Well, five minutes of decent conversation, that was something. We hadn't argued. We'd just talked.

After a couple minutes I said, "I think I might actually give that homework a try now, so…"

"Yeah, I'll clear out." Darry answered quickly, standing up straight and leaving. I almost felt bad for blowing him off like that, but having him just standing there looking uncomfortable was not making me the most comfortable either.

I pulled back out the pictures and started drawing again. Messed up things. I really needed to get out of my own head and into somebody else's. Maybe Motley's. What did our family seem like to him?

Then it came to me. I grabbed a pencil and got to work. When I was finished, I tucked all the pictures under the bed and went to sleep. I didn't notice that the one I'd just done was still half visible.

 **DARRY'S POV**

I went back into Ponyboy's room to check on him at about midnight. Usually I find him reading with a flashlight and have to tell him to go to bed, but he was out like a light. I smiled softly. One normal conversation with him today. I felt like I was doing pretty damn good. I was about to leave when I noticed a piece of paper half under the bed. Curious, I went over and picked it up.

It was one of the best pictures I'd ever seen, talentwise. I could tell exactly who all of the people were and exactly what they were feeling. They almost seemed alive.

But when I saw what the picture was of, I didn't care if it was an artistic masterpiece. I wanted to burn it and never look at it again.

It was me, Ponyboy, Soda, and Motley. I had ahold of Soda and Ponyboy's hands and was dragging them along with me, staring straight ahead. Ponyboy had his head bowed and looked incredibly sad, coming quietly. Soda was trying to get back, his hand stretched out desperately to Motley. And Motley was on his hands and knees behind us, his hand stretched out towards Soda and tears streaming down his face. Their hands were almost touching, but not quite. I'd pulled Soda just a little too far away.

I shook Ponyboy's shoulder. I needed answers, and I needed them now.

"What?" he groaned, rolling over.

"What the hell is this?" I shoved the picture into his chest.

He picked it up and stared at it bearily. His eyes narrowed. Then he went chalk white, suddenly wide awake. "Shit."

"Don't swear."

"You did."

"Don't start this with me. Just tell me what it is I'm lookin' at."

"Just… I was just… that's how I thought Motley might see things…" He wasn't sure exactly what to say, and that made me even angrier.

"Don't you dare pretend you know what's going on in your brother's head. You're not Motley." It shouldn't have pissed me off as bad as it did, but I didn't know if I could handle it if that was how Motley actually felt. Like I was dragging his brothers away from him and leaving him behind to hurt alone. "You've got no idea what he's feeling."

Ponyboy was glaring now. "I know what he's feelin' better than you do. So don't give me that."

"I'm takin' this. And you're not drawin' anythin' else like it, you twisted little bastard." I snatched the picture away and went to my room, slamming the door behind me.

I couldn't bring myself to rip the picture up. Looking at it, I was painfully reminded of the dream I'd had. It was like Ponyboy somehow tapped into the emotions from it and turned them into a picture. And that scared me.

Eventually, I just slipped the picture into a drawer. Ponyboy was right, this was exactly how Motley felt. I was gonna keep this thing as a reminder. A reminder of what I'd done. A reminder to fix it.

XxXxX

Ponyboy wouldn't even look at me the next morning. He was _**pissed**_. Apparently, stealing his picture and yelling at him and calling him a twisted little bastard hadn't gone over well. Anything I may have accomplished with our conversation was wrecked.

Hello, Darry. Welcome back to square one.

Eventually, Two-Bit came in, a welcome distraction from the tension. "Hello, Curtis house! What's new?"

"Motley went to Seattle, and that's where Steve and Soda are goin'." I said, suddenly remembering my conversation with Soda. I couldn't believe I hadn't told anyone yet.

Ponyboy's head whipped up so fast I wouldn't be surprised if he got whiplash. "You didn't say nothin' about that."

"Well, I only just remembered." I laughed, still surprised at myself.

Ponyboy didn't find it nearly as amusing. "Of course you did. Who cares what the hell they're doin'."

"Ponyboy, language."

For a second, I thought the kid might actually take a swing at me, but instead he just ignored me. Two-Bit came and sat at the table with us. "Seattle? Did he say why?"

"No." The fact that I hadn't really given him a chance probably had something to do with it.

"Did you give him a chance to?" You'd think Ponyboy could read minds sometimes.

"I wasn't thinkin' about why. I was more concerned with gettin' him home. We can worry about why later."

"Why's important."

Two-Bit raised an eyebrow. "How's that?"

"It could change where he goes. If he's goin' for one thing, he'll go to a certain place. If he's goin' for another thing, he'll go to a different place."

"That's deep."

"Not really." I mumbled impatiently. That was just logical. It wasn't deep. I swear, Two-Bit's got the depth of a teaspoon.

"Says who?"

"Two-Bit, are you drunk?"

"No. Why?"

"I was trying to come up with reasons you would be stupid enough to argue with me right now, and that was the first one that came to mind."

"Then yes. Drunk. Very." He started talking funny. "Slurring my words and everythin', see?"

"Yes, I can see that." I shook my head. "Why don't the both of you just get to school? I need to get to work, and I'm not leaving the two of you alone in my house." Heaven knew what shape it would be in if I did that. The two of them wasn't quite as bad as Soda and Two-Bit left alone, but it still wouldn't be pretty.

Two-Bit jumped to his feet and mock saluted me. "Yes, sir!" he shouted, still slurring his words on purpose.

Ponyboy just rolled his eyes, grabbed Two-Bit's arm, and hauled him out the door. Probably for the best. That greaser was on my last nerve.

 ** _Author's afterthought: Ta da! Not the world's best chapter, but it'll have to do._**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW!_**


	15. Master

_Author's note: Here you guys go. I can't really think of much to say except enjoy, so yeah. There you have it. Enjoy._

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders, but Motley is mine.**

 _ **Chapter 15: Master**_

SODAPOP'S POV

"How long does it take to get to Seattle?" Steve mumbled from the passenger seat, half asleep.

"Eighteen hours, give or take."

That woke him up a little more effectively. "What now?"

I shrugged. "Eighteen hours. Did I stutter?"

"Soda, c'mon. Please tell me we're not drivin' that all in one shot. Don't do that to me. This is bad enough already."

"Is that complaining I hear, Steve?"

"No." he said quickly.

"Yes, it is. And you know what that means."

"Damn it."

See, Steve and I had a bet. First one to complain about sitting in the car for the next eternity had to call the other one Master until we got home.

Since he'd already lost, I guess Steve decided to quit restraining himself. "Why'd he have to go to Seattle anyhow? Couldn't he've gone somewhere closer? Like, I dunno, San Francisco? Or at least somewhere in the same damn state?"

"Steve, calm down."

"But Soda-"

"Ah ah ah."

He rolled his eyes. "But _**master**_ , it's retarded."

"You're retarded."

"You are."

"You are."

"You are."

"You are."

"Did we seriously just get into one of those?"

I looked over at Steve and smiled. "You didn't have to keep it goin'. That was completely up to you."

"I could say the same thing to you, _**master**_."

"Y'know, that's real nice. I could get used to that. Maybe we should have you call me master all the time."

"In your dreams."

"I mean, I think I'm best in bed…"

"Soda!"

I cleared my throat.

"Master!"

"Problem is, I have no way to judge." I went on thoughtfully. "Maybe we should do the same girl and get her opinion."

"Just… no."

"Wow. Steve Randle turnin' down sex with a chick, even if it is just to have her prove that I'm better than you. Are you sure you're feelin' okay?"

"I'd win."

"Would not."

"We'll prove it when we get home."

I shook his hand. "You got yourself a deal."

"Wanna put some money on it?"

"Okay, Steve, too far."

"This whole conversation's been too far."

I paused. He had a point. "That's fair. See, this is why you shouldn't let me go twenty-four hours without sleep. I'm running on pepsi right now, Steve. Pepsi. I love caffeine, but c'mon."

"You're right, I shouldn't let you do stuff like that. You start talkin' like a loon."

"Now you're just insulting Two-Bit."

"That's low, man." Steve shook his head in mock disappointment. "Being mean to someone that ain't even here. You should at least give a guy a chance to defend himself. And do you really wanna compare _**anything**_ you do, sleep deprived or not, to Two-Bit?"

"You're just as bad as I am."

"Buddy, you need to give me the wheel."

I cleared my throat again.

"Master, give me the damn wheel. You need to sleep before you drive into a pole and kill us."

 **MOTLEY'S** **POV**

I hid in the janitor's closet at the back of the bathroom, hoping that maybe Christine wouldn't look in there. I paced back and forth, running my hands through my hair. I don't care if I look like a damn well dandelion.

I'd told her about a lot of things. Ponyboy, Soda, and Darry. Steve and Two-Bit. I'd even mentioned Johnny. But Dallas… I couldn't talk about him. I just couldn't do it. And now Christine was going to be asking me all these questions. She wasn't the type to just let this go, which was really all I needed right then. Dallas had been a sensitive subject before, but add the fact that we'd gotten in a fight in a dream of all places, and you'd better believe that was one thing somebody who enjoyed having all their limbs attached shouldn't discuss.

She'd wanna know who he was. What we'd done together. How he'd died. She'd want to comfort me and talk about it. She'd tell me it'd help. But I couldn't do this. Not even with her. Maybe I should just leave. Get the hell out while I still could. I mean, I did tell her when I came that this would just be for a little while. Until I could get place of my own.

Problem was, I didn't wanna disappoint her by just disappearing. I don't know why I cared so much. I mean, I hadn't known her for all that long, especially in comparison to my brothers, who I'd had absolutely no problems bailing on. Maybe it was because she'd never let me down, and I didn't want to be the first one to take us down that path. I mean, look where that got Darry and me.

I didn't have the cash for my own place right now anyway, and I sure as shit wasn't going back to park benches. Hobos are mean.

Glory, I sound like I'm twelve.

I should leave. I know I should.

I just really don't want to.

Christine knocked on the door. "Motley, are you in there?"

I didn't answer, just sat down on the floor next to a couple mops.

"Look, I know you're upset, but can we talk about it? I don't even get what you're upset about."

I still didn't say anything.

"Motley, I'm sorry."

Those words are what did it. People don't say sorry to me very often, and I almost never use the phrase. But hearing it coming from her, when she really had absolutely nothing to be sorry for, gave me the incentive I needed to get up and open the door. I didn't want her feeling guilty. Sure, it was a touchy subject. But she hadn't known that.

She smiled when she saw me. "You look like a dandelion again."

I unconsciously ran my hand through my hair again. "Is that really what we're gonna talk about right now? How'd you get in here, anyhow?" I glanced behind her and saw that the grate covering the vent was on the floor. She'd climbed in. "For real?"

"I wanted to play James Bond."

"Do I look like I'm in the mood for joking to you?"

She sobered instantly. "Sorry. Can I come in so we can have some privacy?"

For some reason, I didn't want her to, so I just leaned against the door frame. "We can talk just as good right here."

"Couldn't somebody come in?"

"We ain't gonna be here long."

She got the message. I could tell by the look in her eyes. And she really didn't like it. "Alright. Who's Dal?"

"Nobody."

"'Nobody' doesn't get that kind of reaction out of you. Who is he?"

"A guy from home."

She studied my face for a second, trying to get more out of my answer than anybody else could. She's good at that. Then her expression got sad as something came to her. "He's dead too, isn't he?" she said softly.

I didn't say anything.

"And you were close. Really close."

"Yeah." My voice sounded husky and I didn't like it.

"How recent?"

"September."

She put a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't've brought it up, huh?"

"Yeah, probably not." I gripped the door hard with my hand. "Was there anything else?"

"We can talk more about it later, right?"

"Yeah." Later's one of my very favorite words.

"Okay. Then that's it. I should probably go. Are you gonna stay… in here for a bit longer?"

I nodded and closed the door.

 ** _Author's afterthought: I googled how long it takes to drive from LA to Seattle, and it takes roughly 17 and a half hours, so I rounded to eighteen for the sake of simplicity._**

 ** _Also, the James Bond reference does actually fit. The film_** Dr. No **_did come out before this, and there's a scene where James Bond climbs out of a cell into some vents. So, don't give me no shit about stuff I've researched._**

 ** _Moving on._**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW! It makes me really happy._**


	16. The Way We Could've Been

_Author's note: Here we go again, guys. So, this chapter was indescribably fun to write. Dallas is back! So's Darry's girlfriend, (Cealia, in case you forgot her name), but I'm going to toy with her in a way that isn't pleasant. Please enjoy. Though, considering the unflattering comments I've gotten concerning this woman, I doubt you guys will have much trouble with that._

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders is not mine**

 _ **Chapter 16: The Way We Could've Been**_

 **MOTLEY'S POV**

"Well, hello."

"I thought we were fighting."

"We are."

"Then…" I waved my hand in the air.

I didn't know where Dallas and I were this time. It was rundown apartment in a real shabby looking part of a big city. I looked out the window and saw the Empire State Building in the distance. New York.

"Why're we here?" I asked before he could answer my implied question.

"I wanted to talk somewhere I chose this time."

I nodded. That made sense. If you can't have control of where a conversations gonna go, the least you can do is have control of the location. It was one of the first rules to organizing a rumble. If it's your turf, they're by far more likely to listen to your conditions

"So, how're things goin' with your chick?"

"What, you don't know?"

"I ain't been watchin' you as close lately. Like I said, you're gonna have to handle all this yourself."

"Great. So you're abandoning me too." I knew I sounded melodramatic. I just really didn't care.

"Well, when you're doin' somethin' this stupid, I sure as hell ain't gonna help ya with it."

"Thanks, Dal. Really."

He ignored me. "I saw that she was tryin' to get you to tell her about me."

"I thought you said you weren't watchin'."

"I said I wasn't watchin' as closely. It means somethin' completely different."

"Yeah, she was askin' about you."

"Why didn't you tell her?"

"Would you be able to, if it was the other way around?"

He was silent for a second, thinking. Slowly, he shook his head. "No. I'd never talk about it."

"As long as we understand each other."

We sat in silence for awhile, just watching the cars go by beneath us.

"I checked on Darry and the kid." Dallas said. "They ain't exactly gettin' along, but I guess they're doin' as good as you can expect, given the circumstances."

"The circumstances?"

"Motley, use your head. The only person left around to break em up is Two-Bit. Do you honestly see that goin' over very well?"

"As long as Darry don't hit him again." I'd thought I might literally kill my older brother that night. Then strangle Ponyboy for staying out so late like an idiot. I'm a hypocrite, considering how often I bother paying any attention to curfew, but all the same.

"I think Superman'd rather cut off his right arm that do somethin' like that again, so I wouldn't sweat it."

We fell back into companionable silence, happy to just sit with each other even though we were fighting. I mean, a guy's version of fighting, anyhow. Girls do it totally different. And completely ridiculous. Just because you had a disagreement that you still haven't quite worked out yet doesn't mean you can't set it aside sometimes.

"Is this your old bedroom?" I asked after a while. It looked like it belonged to an eleven-year-old boy.

"Yep." He patted the blanket on the bed. "Home sweet home."

"Do you miss it?"

"Not really."

"Liar." I could hear it in his voice.

He sighed. "I miss what it could've been, y'know?"

"Yeah." I got that. I loved my family and missed them too, but I didn't miss them. I missed the way we could've been. The way we used to be. Not whatever the hell it was we turned into.

"Well, I better let ya go." Dallas said after a minute. "You've got a life to get on with, and I really wanna go pay that bitch Darry calls a girlfriend a visit."

 **CEALIA'S POV**

"Well well, what have we here?"

I was having a perfect good dream about… some of me and Darry's activities when suddenly I was sitting in the middle of that decrepit little lot those hoods call a hang out instead of in my bedroom. A teenage boy stood in front of me, his white blonde hair blowing in the wind, his blue eyes cold with hatred.

Since there wasn't anyone else around, I assumed he must've been the one who'd spoken. "What d'you want?"

"Well, to kill you if we're being honest. Problem is, I'm trying to earn my way into heaven by being at least halfway decent for the next fifty years or so, and apparently that's frowned upon up there."

It's just a dream. He can't really hurt you. It's just a dream…

"But it ain't just a dream, and you know it. Don't think I couldn't kill you here and now if I decided to."

And apparently he could read my mind, the little freak. "Look, I don't know what it is you're here for, but I would really appreciate it if you would leave me alone." I chose to ignore all the things he'd said so far that made it sound like he was dead. I couldn't talk to dead people. That was just ridiculous.

"What if I don't want to?" It was pretty clear he was used to getting his way.

"Listen here… what's your name?"

"Dallas."

I felt like I should know that. Where had I heard the name Dallas before? It wasn't like it was incredibly common around here. Then it clicked.

"The one Darry and the other kid told me about."

Apparently I said something wrong. "You tell him to go kill himself and you can't even be bothered to remember his name?"

What was his name? Now that he was gone, he just seemed to be such a nonentity. Darry wasn't spending a lot of time with me right now, but that would change once he realized that hellspawn he called a brother wasn't coming back. "I literally just call him That Worthless Hood in my head, so-"

I didn't get a chance to finish. Dallas suddenly had a knife under my throat. "If you value keeping everything attached, I suggest you shut up."

"I thought you were trying to get into heaven by being good for fifty years."

"I still ain't made up my mind whether or not it's worth starting over. Don't test me."

I shut up. Darry'd told me enough about Dallas to make me decently afraid of him. I knew what he was capable of. I doubted he'd care if I was girl, even if that would stop most guys.

"There's somethin' I wanna show you. What d'you say?"

"Okay." There wasn't much else for me to say.

He smiled wolfishly. It suddenly came to me that he couldn't do anything without my permission, and now that I'd said yes to such a vague request, he could do whatever he wanted. I'd made a serious mistake.

Fog swirled around us until I couldn't see anything, but I could tell we were moving. Going somewhere else.

"Then let's go." he snarled in my ear.

The fog cleared. My parents were dead. What? That'd never happened.

Then we were in my living room. Not the one of the house I lived in now, but from when I was a kid. Everything was where it should be. But things weren't going the way they should've been. I'd broken my arm climbing a tree with my friends. I watched myself walk in the door, and my older brother, instead of looking concerned, looked exasperated and said, "What did you do this time?"

For just a second, the scene flickered and I saw that worthless hood standing there with a broken arm and it was Darry looking at him like he was just so sick of this. Then it was back to me and my dad. I realized what Dallas was doing. He was making me watch things that'd happened to that worthless hood happen to me. First the death of the parents. Now whatever this was.

"I'm sorry." The me by the door said. She shouldn't've felt like she had to apologize. The teenage girls emotions rolled over me, and I felt her frustration. How she just wanted to be alone to handle her arm, even though part of her hoped the other person would offer to help. And something else. A terrifying emptiness that I've never experienced.

That was the feeling that continued through all the pictures and emotions Dallas made me experience. A terrifying emptiness and pain.

I saw what home life was. My family wasn't close to me. They were close to each other, but not me. Part of it was my fault and I knew it. Part of it was theirs. They thought they were better than me, and I couldn't blame them. I didn't fit in. Except with my best friend.

I watched my brother yell at me for walking home by myself. For breaking someone's nose because they tried to pound on me. For getting suspended because I defended a friend. For failing school because I sluffed half the time and didn't put any effort in when I was actually there. But I only did that because I hated it there more than most kids. I was bored, I was constantly looked down on and degraded, attacked in the hallway when all I was doing was getting my math book from my locker. And since my twin (twin? I didn't have a twin) wasn't even there anymore, what was the point? He yelled at me because I landed a soc in the hospital. I stopped them from jumping and killing my twin. The soc had a blade, he would've done serious damage. I saved my twins life.

And my brother yelled at me for it.

Then I watched my older brother hit my little brother. Waited, terrified, for five days, wondering where the kid had gone. Watched my best friend, practically family, the only person I've ever felt like gets me, get killed. Shot down under a streetlight. Mentally and emotionally, I couldn't handle it. And when I tried to get help, my brother was too busy with his new girlfriend for me. He made promises and broke them over and over. He told her my secrets, things he should've kept to himself. I finally just ran away, unable to take it anymore.

Image after image flashed through my head. The pain, the fear, the confusion, was unbearable. "Make it stop." I whispered. "Make it stop. Please, I'll do anything…"

After what felt like forever, I was back in that lot. The memories that were imposed on my own vanished and I remembered that it wasn't me who'd experienced all those things. The pain wasn't mine. It was somebody else's.

I looked up at Dallas, tears streaming down my face. "Why…"

Dallas simply shoved me, and suddenly there was open space behind me. I fell down into the blackness.

Alone with no one to save me.

 ** _Author's afterthought: I just really felt like torturing the bitch, and she's been such a non-entity in this story that I had to do something. Occasionally mentioning that Darry was coming back from spending time with her just isn't good enough, considering all the bearing she's had on everything. Either way, hope you all enjoyed reading about Dallas having some fun. Never underestimate the effects of psychological damage. Just because it isn't physical doesn't mean it doesn't hurt._**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW!_**


	17. Destructive

_Author's note: Hey guys! I'm glad you like reading about Dallas having some fun in the last chapter. Now you get to enjoy Ponyboy having a little fun of his own ;)_

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders isn't mine, okay? Now that we've cleared that up...**

 _ **Chapter 17: Destructive**_

 **DARRY'S POV**

It was three in the morning when the phone started ringing.

I groaned loudly. "Who the hell would be calling at this time of night?" I got out of bed and headed to the front room. Maybe it hadn't woken Ponyboy up just yet.

"Hello?"

"Darry, it's me."

"Cealia? What… it's three in the morning. Is somethin' wrong?"

She sounded like she was crying. "I know this is the stupidest thing to call you about, but I had the worst dream, and I wanted to hear your voice."

I sat down on the couch, remembering Ponyboy's nightmares. "Believe me, I know all about bad dreams. What was it about?"

"What did Dallas look like?"

That was a weird question. "Did you never see him?"

"No. I make it a point to avoid people like that."

"Well, he was towheaded, and he had blue eyes. Um… he wore black t-shirts a lot."

"How did I know, though?"

"What d'you mean, how did you know? How did you know what?"

"I just… that dream I just had, he was in it. He was in it, and he was mad at me. He threatened me and yelled at me and showed me all these terrible things, then he pushed me off a cliff or something, and I was falling-"

"Whoa, whoa whoa. Slow down." This was reminding me in a rather disturbing way of when Motley was talking about still being able to talk to Dallas in dreams. At the time I told him it couldn't be real. There was just no way. And I still didn't think it was possible. But even I had to admit that there was something weird about her seeing Dallas when she'd never met him before. "Start over and go slow."

"I was in that lot, the one you guys hang out in, and Dallas showed up. He was mad at me. He pulled a blade on me, and he wanted to show me something. He… he made me watch things happening to me that never actually happened. I think… I think they were supposed to be things that happened to that brother of yours, but he made them happen to me."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Believe me, I know."

"Honey, it was just a dream. Nothing to be scared off." I said that to Ponyboy all the time.

Cealia responded exactly how I knew Ponyboy was always feeling, but never could say. "But I _**am**_ scared."

"That's okay. How about you come over here and stay with me tonight?"

I could practically hear her smile through the phone. "Alright. I'll be over in a minute."

"Bye, babe." And I hung up.

"Are you serious?"

I turned, startled, to find a tousle-haired Ponyboy leaning against the wall at the entrance to the hallway. "Hey, Pony." I said cautiously, not sure what I was dealing with here.

"You're gonna have her over? Really?"

"Ponyboy, she's scared."

"Sex while I'm in the house? And the fact that she's scared is supposed to make me feel any less uncomfortable with that?"

"We're not gonna do anything! Like you said, you're here."

"I dare you to get in the same bed as her and not end up doing anything."

He had a point. "That's fair." I pushed the question as to why he knew that to the back of my mind. He probably just listened to Soda too much. "We can put her in Motley's room, it's not like he's using it."

I immediately knew I'd said the wrong thing. I've seen Ponyboy angry, but rarely this angry. "She chases him away, tells him he should kill himself, and you're gonna let her sleep in his room?"

"Pony, it's not like that."

"I honestly can't believe you're still with her, after everything she's done. You know what? I kept telling Motley that you cared, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe he really is nothing to you."

That hit a nerve, and suddenly I was on my feet. "Ponyboy Michael Curtis, you take that back!"

"Why should I?! It's the truth, ain't it?!"

"I don't care what you think is true! You're not gonna talk to me that way, or talk about her that way, you understand me?!"

Ponyboy just shook his head slowly, his eyes bright with a feverish anger.

"Go to your room, and don't you dare come out."

"Yeah, so you can screw your girlfriend on Motley's bed."

"Ponyboy-"

He walked away before I could say anything, and a second later, I heard a door slam.

I sat back down on the couch, running a hand over my face. Man. He could get so angry so fast sometimes. It used to be that if I told him to do something, he'd listen. But ever since Windrixville and that whole mess, he'd been yelling right back at me. And that needed to change.

 **PONYBOY'S POV**

I picked up a book and threw it across my room. There was something satisfying about the sound it made hitting the wall.

How could he, after everything? That bitch was the reason my older brother was gone. She'd told him to kill himself. And now he was having her over. And putting her in Motley's room.

Could someone please enlighten me as to how that made sense or was in any way okay? 'Cause I sure as hell can't come up with anything.

Man, I wished I had a way to get ahold of Soda. He'd hit the roof over this. Maybe Darry doesn't listen to me, but he listens to Soda.

Sometimes.

But Soda had to go traipsing off to California, so I couldn't count on his backup. And he had to drag Steve along with him. Despite our differences, Steve would back me up on this one. And it wasn't like Two-Bit was gonna be any help. He hated getting in the middle of these kinds of things and avoided them whenever possible. Which left me totally on my own.

Good thing Darry tends to underestimate just how destructive I can be. Motley was the one who taught me how, after all.

I slipped out my window and over to the busted grill in the backyard. It was probably stupid of us to leave a full can of gasoline next to it, but we didn't think about it too much. I carried it over to the house. Darry was _**really**_ going to be regretting that soon.

I peaked in the window of Motley's old room. Cealia was in there, sitting on the bed reading a book. She reached for a cigarette. I threw a rock into a pile of car parts Soda'd collected, sending them crashing to the ground. She looked up, scared, then ran out of the room to get Darry. Here was my chance. I jimmied the window open and slipped into the room.

This was a _**very**_ bad idea. I knew that. But just like I seemed to be channeling Motley the other day, I seemed to be channeling him now, and I just didn't care. I poured the gasoline all over the bed, then threw the sheet back on top of it.

I could hear Darry and Cealia in the backyard.

"Soda always stacks these things badly. I'm sure they just tipped over. Nothin' to worry about."

"If you're sure…"

"I'm sure. Let's get back inside, it's cold."

I waited until they weren't in the backyard anymore, then jumped back out and hid next to the window to watch the fireworks.

Cealia was back inside a second later, picking back up her book. She lit a cigarette and flicked the ashes onto the bed.

A plume of fire shot up right in front of her face and quickly spread to the rest of the bed. She started screaming and Darry ran into the room. I fell over I was laughing so hard, so I couldn't see what Darry was doing to put out the fire, but I did see Darry when he poked his head out of the window and glared down at me. I looked up at him from the ground, struggling to keep a straight face and failing miserably.

"Hey, Darry. What's shakin'?"

"You, once you find out what I'm gonna do to you. Get off the ground and in the damn house."

Well. I was screwed.

But it was totally worth it.

 ** _Author's afterthought - Ponyboy can't be completely innocent all the time, otherwise life wouldn't be any fun._**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW!_**


	18. Maybe God's Cryin' For Us

_Author's note: here's another chapter. The updates might not be as regular as usual for a bit._

 **Disclaimer: Nothing here is mine but Motley and Christine.**

 _ **Chapter 18: Maybe God's Cryin' For Us**_

PONYBOY'S POV

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?" Darry hissed.

We were is my bedroom so that Celia didn't have to watch us fight. Like she could if we were in the same room. She was too busy crying and shaking.

Good riddance.

"You could've burned the house down-"

As if I didn't know that.

"You could've killed her-"

She deserved it.

"At the very least, you ruined the bed."

No shit.

"Do you got any idea how much mattresses cost?"

Not cheap, I'm sure.

"Will you just answer me?"

And that is how you frustrate Darry. "I was aware of all those things. Darry. That really was just a wast of air."

"Don't you talk to me that way. I've put up with a lot from Soda and Motley, but I ain't puttin' up with this from you." There was that incorrect English again. Only when he's pissed.

"Face it, Darry. Your girlfriend's a bitch, and she woulda been well served if she burned up on that bed. Not my intention, I just wanted to scare her, but she deserves it."

For just a second, I thought Darry might hit me again. Then he ran a hand over his face and spoke in a voice that shook with barely controlled anger. "We'll talk about this more in the morning. If you leave this room again, you're grounded till Valentines." Then he turned and left.

Till Valentines? Maybe I should just leave it alone...

Nope. Still worth it.

The fire was pretty out of hand. I knew that. I'd just have to do something a little more toned down now.

I sneaked out to the living room. Cealia was asleep on the couch, since apparently the bed was too burned. She seemed pretty out. Hopefull out enough for me to do this.

Heading over to the kitchen cupboard, I grabbed the superglue. This was gonna be fun.

I guess she's one of those types that can sleep through anything, like Soda. She didn't even stir as I superglued her lips together and put it all through her hair.

And glued her to the couch.

MOTLEY'S POV

"Can we talk about Dal now?"

I jumped, startled. Christine got off work about an hour later than I did, so I'd been sitting on the couch watching TV, waiting up for her.

She moved expertly through the dark room and sat down next to me. "I get it if you don't really want to, but it could help."

"Why does everybody always say that? I mean, sure, it can be kinda nice, but it doesn't really fix nothin' in the long run."

"If the long run's really that sucky, then isn't kinda nice kinda worth it?"

"I guess that's fair."

She laughed a little. "You guess."

For the record, if anybody else talked to me the way she did, I would've killed them very slowly a long time ago.

"So? Can we?"

"You said you get it if I don't want to, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then I really don't want to."

"Okay."

That took me off guard. "For real?"

She smiled. "For real. We'll just talk about something else."

I should've known she wouldn't let me off that easy. No one ever does, and there's no reason that should change now. "Fine. Like what?"

"If you know you'd go home if Sodapop asked, why don't you just go home?"

I looked at her sharply. "If you know you're gonna die eventually anyhow, why don't you just die?"

Now it as her turn to be taken off guard. "You're really gonna compare going home to dying? That's not the same thing."

"It might as well be."

"What went so wrong? You still haven't told me exactly what happened."

That's wasn't a subject I was willing to go into either. "It's a long story that we really oughta save for later."

"Why?"

"If it's worth having, it's worth waiting for."

"As if you believe that."

"I don't. My mom said it all the time."

"How about her?"

"What?"

"How about we talk about her? If you don't wanna talk about Dal or your brothers or the reason you left, then why don't we talk about her?"

I really did intend to say no, but for some reason, it came out different. "Okay."

"What did she look like?"

"Um... she had the same color of hair as me. Green eyes, like Ponyboy's. She was small. I got taller than her when I was fourteen."

"So you get your brown eyes from your dad."

I shook my head. "No. His eyes were blue. I honestly don't know where my eye color comes from."

"Was your mom nice?"

"One of the nicest women in the whole world." I stared off into space, remembering. "She loved to bake and made sure we always had cookies around. She'd sing us songs before we went to bed when we were little. She wanted us to have the best of everything, and always felt so bad that's we didn't have the cash for the things we wanted. Sometimes things we needed. Soda and I were stuck in shoes too small for us for three months once 'cause we couldn't afford new ones, and she just felt so bad."

"That's horrible."

"I kept telling her it didn't matter. I even offered to go steal us a couple pairs. She didn't take that very well."

"What d'you mean?"

"Like I said, she loved us, and she wanted us to turn out good. She didn't like it when we started greasing our hair, she didn't like it when we'd lie about going out to fight, she didn't like it when we drag raced, and she hated the idea of us stealing something. She cared about us so much."

"She sounds amazing."

"Yeah." I muttered. "She was."

"What about your dad?"

Dad? Hmm, now there was an interesting subject. "He cared too. He really did. We just... butt heads a lot."

"Why?"

"Soda and I flunked school and love fast cars and girls. Do you honestly think anything there is going to make a dad jump for joy?"

"No, I guess not."

"He was just a little disappointed in us sometimes, that's all. Most of the time we got along real well. He'd take us all hunting and camping and stuff. He tried to take us fishing once, but that didn't end well."

"What happened?"

"Soda and I really don't have the patience for that kind of thing, y'know, and after a bit we decided it'd be funner to tie each other to the dock with the fishing line and see how long it took us to get loose."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah. We didn't judge how much above water somebody had to be to breathe real well, so Soda may have almost drowned. It to9 forever to get Dad's attention, since he was helping Ponyboy, but once I did, he hadn't Soda outta there real quick. I literally thought he was going to kill me."

"That was pretty dumb, Motley."

"Believe me, I know. And that wasn't all we did, either."

"What else?" She almost looked like she didn't wanna know.

"We jacked the car while Dad was busy with somethin' else and took it for a joyride. We were just gonna go around the lake a couple times, see how fast we could do it, but then we saw this off road trail thing that led up to the top of this cliff, and when Soda tried to get on it, we got about ten feet up, then... kind of wound up in the lake."

"And this is after the dock tying incident?"

"Yeah."

"You people are unreal, you know that?"

"I know."

"How'd you get out of this one?"

"We'd got almost all the way around the lake by then, and Dad saw us go in. Him and Darry jumped in and got us out. Then we walked back to the highway and hitched a ride home. Dad made Soda and me pay for a new car."

"I'd be disappointed in him if he didn't."

"Of course you would."

"Do you make a habit of almost dying, or is it just something you occasionally try in your spare time?"

I shook my head. "I'm honestly pretty good at it. Got it down to a science and all that."

"Just... try not to push it too far, alright?"

Something about the tone of her voice had changed. I looked over and she was staring at me. She almost looked scared. Not of me. But of what?

Then it hit me. She was scared for me.

SODAPOP'S POV

"Soda, what d'you know about Seattle?"

I cleared my throat.

"Master, what d'you know about Seattle?"

"Um... it rains a lot? Somethin' about a space needle?"

"Excuse me, a what now?"

"A space needle."

"Does it actually go up to space?" Steve was getting real enthusiastic about this idea now.

"How'm I supposed to know? Though if it did, you'd think somebody woulda mentioned it."

"It rains a lot, though? For real? You're not just messin' with me?"

"No, Steve, I ain't just messin' with you."

"I hate rain."

"Why?"

"Because bad things always happen when it rains."

"You sound like Ponyboy."

"What?"

"He's always hated rain. When he was little, it was 'cause Mom told him rain was God crying, and he wanted to know what was so wrong that it could make God cry. Now it's 'cause whenever somebody dies, it always seems to be raining."

Steve doesn't say anything.

"That's the same reason why you hate it, isn't it." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah." Steve was quiet. Of course he was. He's always quiet when we get going about things like this. I'm the only one he talks about this stuff to, and I think he's quiet because he's subconsciously afraid of being overheard. "It we rainin' the day my mom killed herself."

"I know." I whispered. "It was the day we met."

"Maybe rain is God cryin'."

"How?"

"Maybe he looks down at what he's doin' to us, and he just can't help feeling sad. Heaven knows it's enough to depress anyone. Maybe God's cryin' for us."


	19. Dirty Stupid Dropout

_Author's note:Sorry it's taken so long. Hope you enjoy what I've got for you._

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders isn't mine. So yeah.**

 _ **Chapter 19: Dirty Stupid Dropout**_

 **STEVE'S POV**

It was almost midnight by the time we got to downtown Seattle. I was driving now, and Soda was getting some needed sleep in the passenger seat. It was for the best. He gets loopy when he's tired.

But no matter how much it was needed, I didn't like that he was asleep anyhow. The rain was falling quickly now, and I was left alone to think.

I really did hate rain, and for exactly the reasons Soda said. Everybody dies when it rains. Soda's folks. Johnny and Dallas. Mom. Grandpa. My kid brother James, who died the day he was born. I didn't even get a chance to meet him. I just got a chance to bury him. Baby coffins are so small.

It was raining then too.

I looked at the city around me. I knew people were dying in this place right now too. People I would never meet, but had stories all their own. They had best friends, jobs, girlfriends. You know, all the things that make life worth living.

Were they sad to leave it all behind, or had they seen enough of life and were ready to go? Were they taking their own lives on purpose, like Mom? Or were they forced to leave when they were far too young, like James? Were they dying quickly, probably not even feeling it, like Soda's parents? Or were they finally leaving after months of agonizing pain as disease ravaged their bodies, like Grandpa? Did they die a hero, like Johnny? Or a hood, like Dallas?

All these people I loved, all gone, all way too soon. Way too soon for them and way too soon for me.

I reached my hand up and brushed my cheek in shock. I was crying.

See, this is what happens when I'm left alone to think.

"Soda." I hissed. "Wake up."

He stirred and sat up slowly, muttering sleepily, "I thought you were supposed to call me master." He smiled and turned to face me. Then stopped smiling.

Damn it, I should've at least tried to stop crying before I woke him up.

"Steve? What's wrong?"

"Nothin'."

He looked at me for a second, then a light of understanding came into his eyes, and I could tell he knew exactly where my thoughts had taken me. Of course he did. His thoughts took him there sometimes too.

Soda always understands. Always.

 **DARRY'S POV**

I was woken up by the sound of Ponyboy laughing in the living room. That was a sound I'd been missing for a while. Smiling myself, I headed out to see what had him going so early.

Yeah, the smile disappeared pretty quick.

Cealia was lying there on the couch, trying to get up, but she couldn't. She couldn't open her mouth either. I didn't have to look very close to know what happened. Super glue.

Ponyboy was sitting on the floor, watching her struggle. He obviously thought it was pretty funny.

"Ponyboy Michael Curtis, what the _hell_ did you do?!"

He looked up at me, trying to keep his expression neutral, but kept breaking out into a wide grin. "I was just makin' sure she could stay on the couch. Wouldn't want her rollin' off, would we?"

I might literally just kill this kid. "Go to your room. And stay in it this time, I mean it."

Miracle of all miracles, he did what he was told.

It took me thirty minutes and a lot of hot water, soap, and acetone nail polish remover that I found in Mom and Dad's room to get Cealia loose and her lips unstuck. Where had Ponyboy even gotten the idea to do something like this? It wasn't the kind of thing he usually dreamed up. Then again, none of this was stuff he usually did. I mean, basically setting fire to the house? _Gluing_ my girlfriend to the couch? It would've been funny if I wasn't so mad at him.

Cealia was just mad. "What the _hell_ is wrong with your brothers, Darry? They're terrors! All of them!"

"You haven't met Soda yet."

"Oh, and he's so much more of a saint than the others?"

"Most people seem to think so."

Before she could answer, the phone rang. "One second, babe, I oughta get this."

She folded her arms and pouted while I answered. Girls can be so needy sometimes.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Darry, it's Soda." He sounded more cautious than last time. Like he expected to get snapped at again.

"Hey, little buddy. How's it goin'?"

"Well, we're in Seattle now. Nice place, I guess, if you don't mind rain. They oughta rename that space needle thing, though. It doesn't go to space. Why name it a space needle if it doesn't go to space?"

"Soda, did you just call me to rant about space needles?" It really wouldn't surprise me if he had. Really.

"Nah, I just wanted to check in. Maybe talk to Pony. Is he home?"

"He's in his room. He's in trouble right now, so if you wanna talk to him, you're gonna have to call back later."

"What'd he do?"

"Nothin' I can't handle."

"So, what're you doin'?"

"Sittin' here with Cealia." I was hit with a sudden stroke of brilliance. Time to head things off at the pass. Maybe Ponyboy had managed to get me to tell him everything that'd gone down at the school the day Motley left, but Soda didn't know. He had no reason to be mad at my girlfriend. If he talked to her now, maybe I could get at least one of my brothers to like her.

Not that anyone should've been angry with her. She'd said those things to Motley because she was angry. She didn't mean them. Heaven knows I've said my fair share of things I didn't mean. No reason to hate somebody forever just for that.

"Look, Soda, you wanna talk to her?"

He was silent for a second. "I dunno, Dar…"

"C'mon, it'll be good for you to get to know her."

"I dunno if I wanna-"

I didn't give him a chance to finish. "One second, Soda." I held the phone out to Cealia. "Here."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. Now talk to him. I know you two will like each other." After all, how could two people I cared about so much not like each other?

Though, to be fair, Ponyboy and Motley were not huge fans of my girlfriend.

Giving me this look like she really didn't like this idea, she took the phone. "Hello; Yeah; No, you're younger brother's in the house; Honestly, how can you even suggest - Yeah, well, screw you too, kid."

This did not sound like it was going the way I'd hoped.

"Why don't you just find your brother and stay out there? It's not like anybody wants either of you to come home, you dirty, stupid dropout."

That did it. I snatched the phone back from her. "Soda?"

"Tell your bitch of a girlfriend to burn in hell." His voice sounded strained. He hung up before I had a chance to say anything else.

I threw the phone down and turned to my girlfriend. "Who the hell do you think you are?" It was like I was finally seeing her clearly for the first time. I didn't know why I hadn't seen it before, but I was seeing it now. She was a bitch, and she hated my brothers. Seemed hellbent on hurting them in any way possible, really. I'd thought I loved her, but maybe I was wrong.

For some reason, the fact that she'd said something to hurt Soda this time is what really opened my eyes.

"I think I'm your girlfriend and these terrors you call brothers need to go! Why do you keep the worthless brats around anyway?"

"Because they're my family, that's why!"

"We can have a better family! One that isn't full of ratty little greaser trash! I can get rid of all that."

"You're such a tool."

"Excuse me?"

"Isn't it tools that usually take out the trash?"

"Would you just get rid of them? They don't have any value anyway! They're nothing! Absolutely nothing! It's them or me, you get it?!"

Up until now, I'd been choosing her over them. Rationalizing what she was doing. But I was done with that. It was time to make the choice I should've made a long time ago. "Them. Now get the shit out of my house."

Something about me being so quiet and intense scared her more than the yelling. She jumped up like she'd been burned and took off out the door.

Teach her to come near my family.

"Nice job, Darry." Ponyboy was leaning against the entrance to the hallway, smiling brightly.

"Didn't I tell you to stay in your room?" I tried to be mad, but I couldn't help smiling too.

"You did."

Shaking my head, I waved him over to the couch. "C'mere, kiddo. We'll watch some TV or somethin'."

 _ **Author's afterhought: Ta da! Hope that makes everybody happy. At least, the break up bit. If the Steve part makes you happy, then you're twisted. Which I guess is okay...**_

 _ **PLEASE REVIEW**_


	20. The Required Couple Minutes

_Author's note: Hi guys. Hope you've all had a good summer. I'm going back to school on Monday, so updates might get more sporadic. Might. We'll see. I'll try to keep things at least sort of flowing for you guys. It's the least I can do, what with all the amazing support you've given me. Thanks._

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders isn't mine**

 ** _Chapter 20: The Required Couple Minutes_**

 **PONYBOY'S POV**

I'm not sure exactly what Two-Bit expected to find when he showed up at our house, but I guess it wasn't this.

Darry and I were sitting at the coffee table playing poker, the radio turned up as high as possible, laughing and insulting each other for seemingly no good reason. It was actually really nice.

Hmm, so this was what it was like to be Soda and Steve.

I guess Two-Bit had been reminded of those two as well, because after he'd stared at us for the required couple minutes, his first words were, "I could hear you guys from two streets over. For a second, I thought Soft Drink and Stevie were back."

"Come play with us, Two-Bit." I said happily. "We're celebrating."

With a wide smile, he came and sat down. "I'm guessin' that's why the pepsi's allowed in the living room. What're we celebratin'?"

"Darry broke up with Cealia." Has there ever been a better reason for celebration than that?

"Did he now?" Two-Bit looked at him in interest. "Why the sudden change of heart? After everything' else she's done, I was startin' think she'd never be able to do somethin' bad enough to get you to ditch her."

Darry just shook his head. "Water under the bridge, Two-Bit. Why don't you play poker with Ponyboy while I go make dinner?" He stood up, handed his cards to Two-Bit, then headed over to the kitchen.

Well, it wasn't like him being so nice and friendly was going to last forever. There had to be a point where things went back to normal. And hopefully _**normal**_ normal, because whatever the hell it was we'd been calling normal lately was getting real old real fast.

"So, what happened?" Two-Bit whispered.

"She said somethin' mean to Soda." I wasn't sure I actually wanted to tell him what she'd said. That just wasn't okay. Soda was a lot of things, but not a dirty stupid dropout.

"How'd she pull that off? Coca-Cola ain't even here."

The number of weird nicknames Two-Bit's got for Soda never ceases to amaze me. "He called Darry to talk about what he and Steve are up to, and Darry, for some odd reason, got it in his head that it would be good for Soda and Cealia to talk."

"Didn't end well, huh?"

"Nope, not at all."

"So, what are they up to?"

I thought back on what little I'd gathered from Darry's side of the conversation. "They were talkin' about the space needle, so I guess they're in Seattle by now. That's really about it."

"The - excuse me, what?"

"The space needle."

"Do I even wanna know what the hell you're talkin' about?"

"It's a building in Seattle, Two-Bit."

"Does it actually go to space? 'Cause if it does-"

"No, Two-Bit."

"But why call it a space needle if it doesn't actually go into space? It doesn't make any sense."

"You sound like Soda." Darry called over.

"Well, Soda's brilliant, so I'll take that as a compliment."

For some reason, Darry flinched at Two-Bit's words and quickly got back to making dinner. Of all the weird things…

"Either way," Two-Bit said slowly. He'd noticed Darry's expression too. "I think they should just call it the really tall pointy building and leave it at that."

"Two-Bit, if you saw a place called the really tall pointy building, would you honestly be in any way interested?"

"Yes." He was dead serious too.

"You scare me."

 **MOTLEY'S POV**

"Hello."

"Dallas, where the shit are we now?"

We were, once again, in a place I didn't recognize. An old abandoned warehouse, if you'll believe it. At least the apartment had made a little sense. This was just… weird.

"Where does it look like we are? It's a warehouse."

"And would you care to enlighten me as to why we're here?"

"Well, it's pretty simple. They store guns here, and this is where me and my gang came to get what we needed."

I glanced around. "They didn't keep a better eye on it?"

"As long as we kept it on our side of town, they didn't care if we were using guns to kill each other."

"Gotta love the NYPD." I muttered.

"Yeah, they're not my favorite either." Dallas lit a cigarette and offered one to me. I took it gratefully. Christine didn't like me smoking in the apartment, and the boss didn't like me smoking on the job, so my smoking time had been limited considerably. This was honestly the first time I realized I was actually kind of addicted to the stuff.

"So, we're here because you got fond memories of stealing guns?"

"Yep."

"Did you ever actually kill anybody?" For some reason, we'd never talked about this.

Dallas got this really distant look in his eyes, like he was sad, hurt, and most of all guilty, but couldn't do anything about it. "Once."

I knew better than to ask for any more details.

After a minute, he seemed to remember where he was and what he was doing here and said, "Soda finally talked to that bitch today."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? How'd that go?"

"She called him, if I'm remembering right, a dirty stupid dropout."

"She _**what**_?" Once again, the question 'is murder really wrong in all circumstances?' came to mind.

"I really wouldn't sweat it, man. Darry broke up with her afterwards. And Ponyboy had a fair amount of fun with her before."

"What'd he do?"

"Made the bed catch fire and superglued her to the couch."

I always knew that kid had potential.

"It was incredibly entertaining to watch, if you want the truth. I'm regretting ever thinking that kid was boring. He knows how to have a good time just like the next person. That bitch screamed so damn loud when the bed went up. It was awesome."

"So Darry really broke up with her?" It just seemed so sudden. I thought he was gonna be sticking by her, considering everything else he'd taken from her.

Enter my insecurities. She called Soda one name and he broke up with her. She tells me to kill myself, and he doesn't even bat an eye. Just another kind reminder that he loves Soda, not me. I guess when there's two of us, I'm not worth a ton. There's the twin he loves. Then there's me. The extra.

Always.

"Motley, you're gettin' all depressed and thoughtful again. It's not good for you." Dallas waved a hand in front of my face. "You never wind up in good places when you do that."

"I got a right to be depressed and thoughtful if I want, Dallas."

He shrugged. "Alright. Then I'll leave you to do those things in peace."

 **SODAPOP'S POV**

Steve was asleep in the passenger seat now while I drove around Seattle, trying to find a place we could stay for a night. This was getting exhausting.

What Cealia said shouldn't've been bugging me. I knew that. She was just a condescending, jealous bitch. Nothing she said was true and it really shouldn't matter.

But it did.

See, she'd used what I'd always felt insecure about. Why would anyone want me? How could I ever be good enough for anyone, especially with my brothers around? They'd always been so much smarter than me. How could anyone possibly want me when they could have them? It was true, and I knew it. I'd always known it.

And why would Darry want me to come home, really? I mean, things have been better since he graduated high school, but back then, it was bad. He didn't want to be seen with me in public. Any of us, really. Us ratty little greaser kids. I'd pretended it didn't matter to me back then, and I did my best not to think about it now, but it really did bug me. He was my older brother, and suddenly he was ignoring me? Yelling at me for being familiar with him? I'd found it was best to just act like I had no idea who he was and leave it at that.

It really had gotten better after high school, though. He wasn't around the football team, he deflated his head a little. But now I couldn't help but wonder if it was really possible for a person to change that much.

I kind of wanted to wake Steve up and ask him. He had a nice inferiority complex too, thanks to his old man, and he knew all about mine. I think he was the only person who did, really. He'd be able to help me with all this. But I didn't wake him up. I didn't have the heart to, not after how sad he'd been earlier.

I guess this was just something I'd have to deal with by myself, like everything else in my life. I helped everybody. Nobody but Steve ever helped me.

Maybe I should just stay out here with Motley once I found him. Maybe it really would be better that way.

 ** _Author's afterthought: Ta da! I know it's not the happiest, but since when is anything?_**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW!_**


	21. I Brought It On Myself

_Author's note: I MADE IT THROUGH THE FIRST WEEK OF SCHOOL! IT FELT LIKE A MONTH! *small hysterical sob* BUT I MADE IT!_

 _Okay, done now. I just had to say that. It was so long and so painful. But it's Friday and I made it, so YAY!_

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders isn't mine.**

 _ **Chapter 21: I Brought It On Myself**_

 **MOTLEY'S POV**

Is it weird that I automatically knew something was up with Soda?

I was lying in bed that night, unable to sleep because this odd feeling was keeping me awake. I'm not sure how I knew, I just knew. I'd gotten this feeling before, usually on those days when Soda was a little quieter than usual. But I'd always thought it was just that I didn't like seeing my twin down. Now I wasn't so sure, considering I hadn't been anywhere near him for a while now.

I got up and headed out to the front room for some water. It's not like sleep was going to be happening any time soon, and I really was kind of thirsty. Besides, the apartment's nice when it's so quiet and dark.

It's strange that I like that so much now. When I was little, I hated it when the house was dark and quiet. It was just wrong on so many levels. Our house wasn't like that a lot, and when it was, it usually wasn't because of anything good. But after Mom and Dad died, I loved it when everyone was gone. When it all just stopped and no one was bothering me. They all wanted me to be happy like I used to be, like Soda was, and I just couldn't do it. Except when they were gone. Then I was happy.

Only, not really. I was happy, y'know, on the surface. But deep down, I wasn't. I never was. I didn't want them to leave me alone, really. But at the same time I did, and I just couldn't help it.

I know none of that makes any sense, but I don't care. Since when do feelings make sense?

"Motley, are you okay?" Christine came in and flipped on a light.

So much for dark and quiet. "Yeah, great. What gave ya the idea I wasn't?"

"You're sitting here by yourself in the dark looking like you just kinda wanna cry."

"No, I'm not."

"Saying it doesn't make it true."

"Prove it."

She sat down at the table, pulling me down into a chair next to her. "That's enough of that."

For just a second, I froze. My mom used to say that to me all the time. When I was wrestling Soda, when I had Ponyboy in a full nelson, when I threw little things at Darry while he was doing his homework. It was weird hearing it from somebody else.

"Just because you're having a hard time doesn't mean you need to take it out on me. You've got a lousy attitude and I'm sick of it."

"Excuse me?" Just who did this bitch think she was? I don't care how much I like a person, nobody talks to me that way. Nobody.

"If you'd just open your mouth and say something you actually meant for once in your life-"

"I mean everything I say!"

"Bullshit."

"Just because you don't believe it doesn't make it bullshit."

"You don't have to sit there and be cool and tough all the time, alright? Just talk to me."

"We've had this conversation before." And I really didn't want to have it again.

Apparently she was weirdly in tune with what I was thinking and didn't care about that. "And we're gonna have it again."

I glared at her. "I told you about my mother. I told you about my father. What else do you want from me?"

"I want you to tell me about Dallas. And then I want you to tell me about your brother."

"I've already told you about my brothers-"

"Not all of them, you haven't. You've told me about Ponyboy, you've told me about Soda. You've told me about the other boys who're your friends. But you've never told me about Darry."

"C'mon, can't you just accept there are some things I'm not particularly in the mood to discuss?"

"I would if you were ever in the mood to discuss them. But it's been a while since you first told me to leave it alone, Motley."

"Would you just stop it? You're not my mother."

"You're right. I'm not. But maybe that's a good thing. Your family relationships seem pretty complicated. Maybe it's best for you to talk to someone who's not stuck in the middle of it all."

"Whatever." She had a fair point, but that didn't mean I had to like it.

"Look, can you just tell me what it is your brother did to you that's so wrong?"

I thought back over the last nine months. All the times Darry'd yelled at me when I wasn't doing anything wrong. All the times that all I'd wanted was some love and comfort but he wouldn't give it to me, claiming that I brought it on myself. Or more recently, how he chose some bitch over me. His little brother.

What kind of a sick twisted world is this?

"He doesn't care about me." I said finally. "Everything else he did, it all came from that. It doesn't matter. In the end, it all comes down to the fact that he _**loves**_ his _**precious**_ girlfriend and doesn't give a shit about me."

"Motley, how can that possibly be-"

"He chose her over me again and again and again. I think that's how it can possibly be true."

"How long have they been going out?"

"A while, okay? He told me, but I don't really remember."

"Why not?"

"Well, at the time, I was a little busy trying to explain why I'd been thinking of jumping off the 11th street bridge."

She was silent for a second. "I guess that would be the focus of that conversation."

"Not that he gave me a chance to explain. He was going out on a date with her, so he was _**busy**_. Too busy for me. As per usual."

"That's horrible."

I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "There are worse things."

She looked at me more closely. "There isn't just one universal worst thing. It varies from person to person. And maybe for someone else there are worse things, but not for you."

Damn, that was deep. And too terrifyingly true for comfort.

"Well, what's worst for you?"

For a second, I thought she might just slap me. "And why the hell to you expect me to answer that?"

"If you want honesty from me, I want it from you." Gotcha, sucker.

Her mouth was a thin line, but she answered anyhow. "Fine. The worst thing for me is having someone taken from me."

I could've asked why, but I wasn't sure I wanted to have that emotional of a conversation just then. I don't like sharing my problems, and I don't like it when other people do it either. Basically, if feelings are involved, I'm out.

But the words came out anyway before I even knew what was going on. "Why?"

She actually did slap me this time. " _ **That**_ is none of your business."

I stood up. "I'm goin' back to bed. Goodnight."

"Motley-"

"Listen, if you wanna know all this stuff about me, I got every right to know all that stuff about you. If it's none of my business, it's none of your business. Savvy?"

"I-"

"You're bein' a hypocrite and you know it. 'Ooh, Motley, tell me everything! Bear your soul to me, please! But if you ask a question, I'm gonna smack you and tell you it's none of your business!' Yeah, 'cause _**that**_ makes sense."

She called after me, but I left and went back to my room anyhow. She tried to talk to me through the door for the next hour, but I didn't answer her. I was just finished with all of this. Besides, what else, really, was there to say?

 **DARRY'S POV**

It was the weirdest thing. I'd spent so much time thinking about Cealia, and now she was just another ex. I had plenty of those, whatever Steve may have said about my love life, and I thought it would be easy to shove her into the same category as all the rest of them. But it wasn't, and that was freaking me out. What was it with her, no matter what she did or said, that just made me care?

I didn't voice these thoughts to Ponyboy. He wouldn't take very kindly to any of them, and since we'd just gotten ourselves back onto halfway decent footing, I wasn't in the mood to screw it up again.

What I really wanted was for Soda to call. I felt like I needed to talk to him about what Cealia said, make sure he knew I didn't feel that way. Soda may have dropped out, and he may have made his fair share of mistakes, but he didn't deserve what she'd said. He was one of the best people I'd ever met, a by far better person than me. But he doesn't believe that. I feel like part of it might be that people don't really tell him that ever, but he gets told about everything wrong with him plenty.

These thoughts I did mention to Ponyboy. He understood how I felt about Soda, at the very least. But what he said in response shocked me.

"You realize that's part of the problem with Motley too, right? You always tell him what he did wrong, never what he did right. Like that time he saved Soda and sent that Soc to the hospital. You just stood there and yelled at him. All he needed was thank you and I love you."

 ** _Author's afterthought: And on that note..._**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW! I'll try and have something else for you guys by next Friday. We'll see how it goes._**


	22. It's Just Always So Hard To Remember

_Author's note: Well, I said I'd try and have something ready for you by Friday, and here I am. You're welcome. I hope you're ready for more of Motley being a smartass and Steve being all wise._

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders isn't mine**

 ** _Chapter 22: It's Just Always So Hard To Remember_**

 **MOTLEY'S POV**

There was a knock at the door.

I glanced up at it from the couch, where I'd been watching TV. Who the hell was that? I was already home, and Christine had a key. It wasn't like she was gonna knock. I honestly kinda didn't wanna answer it, but at the same time I felt like that made me a wuss, so to the door I went.

I opened it to find some fortyish-year-old lady who looked like the type that would tell me off for not going to church. "Um… hello?"

She just stared at me for a second. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I'm Ace, and I live here. What d'you want?"

"I'm looking for my daughter."

For a second, I was confused. Then it hit me. "You're Christine's _**mom**_?"

She sniffed disapprovingly. "Well, you're not completely incompetent. But your manners are lacking."

"Huh?"

"You're supposed to invite me in."

"Oh!" I hadn't even thought of that. "Yeah, come in."

The lady sniffed again at the inside of the apartment, then at the couch, before glancing at me and doing it again. Apparently that was her thing.

"Need a tissue?" I asked innocently.

She simply glared at me before she pulled out a small handkerchief, laid it on the couch, then sat down. This chick was a whole new level of ridiculous.

"I'll take that as a no." I muttered, heading over to the phone. I dialed the bar. "Hey, boss? I need to talk to Christine."

"Is it important?"

I thought for a second. I was alone with a snooty old lady that kept sniffing and was Christine's mother on top of it all. "Yeah, I think this qualifies as important."

"One second, I'll put her on."

I tapped my foot impatiently. The lady, Christine's mom, was staring at me all weird and it was making me uncomfortable.

"Hey, Motley, what's up?"

"Your mother is here."

Christine was silent for a second. "Say that again, slowly."

"Your. Mother. Is. Here."

"You - you're sure?"

"Makes weird sniffy sounds every five seconds? Sets things on couches before sitting on them? Keeps looking at me like I'm the scum of the Earth?"

Christine sighs. "Yeah, that sounds like her. I'll be home in five minutes, okay? Just… don't tell her anything."

"That I can do."

"Alright, bye." The line went dead.

"If you insist on talking about me," the lady said, "could you at least be considerate enough to do it somewhere I can't hear you?"

I shrugged. "I like to know what people are saying about me. Why don't you?"

She didn't have a good answer. I love it when I manage to shut people up so fast. It saves a lot of time and frustration.

The door opened and Christine hurried in. She stared at us for a second. We probably made a really weird picture, the stuck-up old woman and the wayward teenager. Finally, she forced her face into a smile and said in a voice dripping with fake brightness, "Hi, Mom! What're you doing here?"

"Well," the lady made the sniffy sound again, "I thought I come stay with you for a while, see how you were getting along out here. You never call and you never write."

"Well - I was - there was -"

Y'know, I like Christine and everything, but there's something fun about watching person grasping for words and completely speechless. Especially after our fight the other night.

"Now I can see that it's because you're living in a way you knew I wouldn't approve of."

Christine just stared at her mother in confusion. "What?"

The lady nodded rather pointedly at me. "I don't know how many times I have to explain to you that it's not okay to live with your boyfriend, but I will do it again if I must. It's immoral and disgusting."

"What - you think I'm her _**boyfriend**_?" I asked incredulously. "Lady, you got it all wrong. I'm just layin' over for a bit. In and out, no sweat."

She sniffed again. "Don't speak unless spoken to, boy. Now why don't you go to your room?"

"Now wait just a second." Nobody talks to me like that. "First of all, my name is Ace, not boy. Second of all, I can talk whenever the hell I want, to whoever the hell I want, about whatever the hell I want. And third of all, don't you dare tell me what to do."

The lady turns to Christine. "I always knew your taste in men was abhorrent, but this is ridiculous. A foul mouthed hood that can't respect his elders?" She gave me this look like she'd just scored a point or something. "What do you have to say to that, Ace?"

"Thanks for the compliments."

That caught her off guard. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"The fact that you consider those compliments is just another testament to the flaws in your character. Christine, I raised you better. You're supposed to be a good Christian girl, and you're living here with this heathen?"

"We're not gonna talk about this anymore." Christine's tone was so final that even her mother shut up and listened. "You're welcome to stay, but if you are, you're not going to criticize my choices, and you're not gonna criticize M - Ace. I live how I want to live, and so does he, and you just deal with it. End of discussion. Understand?"

I love it when a chick takes control of a situation.

 **STEVE'S POV**

Soda and I walked down the street in the rain. The rain that never seemed to go away. Soda wasn't saying anything, lost in thought, and I was kicking a rock down the street. We'd been looking for Motley for so long without finding anything that, even though we both knew it realistically wasn't gonna be so fast, Soda was getting a bit depressed. I hate it when he does that.

Seattle was so different from Tulsa. At home people yelled at each other from their cars and ran around together causing trouble, just having a good time. Y'know, when they weren't getting jumped. We were friends with most of the other kids from our side of town. Here, everybody just wandered around with their heads down looking like we did when we went to funerals - which was more often than you'd think. It kind of seemed right, though, what with the rain and everything.

"Steve," Soda said suddenly, "am I stupid?"

"No." That was the last thing I expected to hear from him just now. "Why?"

"No reason." We fell silent.

After another minute or so, Soda started again. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Why're we here?"

"Well, _**that**_ was a weird question. "Man, you know why we're here. That chick told us Motley came this way."

"No, Steve, I mean why are we _**here**_?"

Okay, something was seriously wrong here. "We're here because we need to find your brother and bring him home."

"Is that really the best thing though?" If Soda didn't have that faraway look he gets when he's seriously thinking about something, I'd've assumed he was kidding. "I mean, it's not like things were that great for him there. Maybe he's happier where he is now."

"In a place where it never stops raining? C'mon, man, that's ridiculous. Besides, you're the one who hauled my ass all the way out here."

"I know. I've just been thinkin-"

"A dangerous pastime."

"-and it came to me that life kinda blows."

That was not a normal thing to hear coming from Soda. "Dude, you're usually the one who's all about how great it is. The shit is the matter with you?"

Soda sighed. "I really don't know."

"Look. I know it sucks sometimes. I know getting your brother when he was so miserable seems kinda pointless. But life doesn't suck all the time, and Motley won't be miserable forever, and that's what counts."

"I guess."

I snorted derisively. "You guess."

He smiled at me half-heartedly. "Thanks, man."

"No problem. You just need a reminder sometimes."

Everybody needs a reminder sometimes. What I said to Soda applies to everyone, really, even if I never feel that way.

Life doesn't suck all the time, and you're not gonna be miserable forever.

It's just always so hard to remember.

 ** _Author's afterthought: Well, there you go. PLEASE REVIEW!_**


	23. For All the Things He Did

_Author's note: Hey guys, sorry for the wait. School's been crazy, and I've hit a really unfortunate wall of writers block on this story. But I pushed at least halfway through it to write this chapter for you guys. Sorry it's so short, but it's the best I've got right now. Believe me, I am trying. Do me a favor and don't hate me for how long this is taking, okay?_

 **Disclaimer: The Outsiders is not mine in any way shape or form, but Motley is.**

 _ **Chapter 23: For All the Things He Did**_

 **CHRISTINE'S POV**

That night, my mom came to my room and started in on me again.

"Christine, he's got to go."

"Why?" Motley hadn't done anything to me. He was a good guy underneath the act. Why was my mom so against him?

"Think about it for five seconds, honey. You've never mentioned this boy before, so that tells me you met him after you left. And if that's the case, you barely even know him at all. But you let him into your home, you let him live here. He could be anyone. He could've done any number of things. If you don't want me to talk to you about how immoral it is, can you at least recognize that it's stupid and reckless?"

"Call it what you want."

"Just as sullen as ever, I see."

"Thank you."

"He could hurt you."

"He'd never do that." There weren't a lot of things I'd ever been sure of, but that was one of them. Motley would never hurt me. Get angry at me, sure. Yell at me, even. But he wouldn't hurt me. He'd proved that when I slapped him the other night and he hadn't even raised his hand back. For all the things he did to prove he was horrible, he was so good.

"You have no proof of that."

Well, I sure as hell wasn't gonna give her my example as proof, but still. "I just know, alright? Now would you get out of my room and go back to bed?" The sleeping arrangements were already pissing me off as it was. There were only two bedrooms and two beds in the apartment, so Motley wound up on the couch. I felt like he deserved the bed more than my mom, but what can you do?

"Alright. I'll go back to bed. But we're not finished with this discussion."

Man, did I miss how much simpler it was with my father. If I was enough of a bitch for about five minutes, he'd just leave it alone.

 **PONYBOY'S POV**

This was getting ridiculous on so many levels. Darry and I could barely even stand in the same room as each other, we hadn't heard anything from Soda since his talk with Cealia, Motley hadn't called since that one time I talked to him, and the world was just going to hell in a handbasket in general.

See, the state was wondering where the hell Soda'd gotten off to, and apparently 'he's on a roadtrip with Steve to take his mind off things' just wasn't a good enough explanation in their book. So now they were watching us like hawks, coming over to check up on us all the time. It was getting really old.

Not to mention how Darry was acting about it. The way he was talking to me, you'd think I was some horrible kid. It was always, 'be good, Ponyboy, don't do this, don't do that, best behavior, clean up your stuff', and a million and one other things I don't particularly wanna take the time to mention. He didn't trust me to handle myself, and I'm gonna be honest, that hurt. I'd thought we'd been making some forward progress. But that just goes to show you that I really shouldn't get my hopes up about stuff like Darry and me getting any better with each other. It never lasts.

And you think that pissed Darry off? Yeah, think again.

You should've seen what happened when Steve's dad finally noticed he wasn't around. Took him long enough.

I was woken up by incessant knocking at about seven o'clock Saturday morning. Groaning I rolled out of bed and headed out to the front door. Darry'd gotten there first so I just stood behind him and watched. He opened the door to find Mr. Randle, wasted and angry looking, on our front porch.

"Can I help you?" Darry asked cooly. None of us likes Steve's old man all that much, and we don't even really know the half of what goes on over there. Steve doesn't talk about it a lot.

"Where's my son, Curtis?"

Darry could've answered honestly, but I guess he felt like pissing Mr. Randle off, because he said, "And why should I tell you that?"

"Because he's my son."

"And?"

"And what? Do I need another reason?"

"Well, considering the way you treat him... kinda, yeah."

Oh man. This was getting good.

"You tell me where he is right now, Curtis, or I swear I'll-"

"You'll what? Beat me up? Kill me? D'you honestly think you'd win?"

Mr. Randle paused. He knew he'd never win. He wasn't exactly tall, about my size, honestly, and as shitfaced as he was, there was no way he could take my big brother.

Darry smiled coldly. "That's what I thought. Now why don't you just head on home, and your son will come by when he feels like it?"

Mr. Randle shook his head adamantly. "No. I ain't leavin' without my boy."

Darry cocked an eyebrow. "And why is that? Never seemed to care about him too much before, what with how many times he wound up sleepin' on my couch covered in bruises."

"Don't you criticize the way I parent my own kid, Curtis!"

"Oh, is that what we're callin' parenting now? I was under the impression that taking care of the kid was involved in there somewhere."

"You shut up or else!"

"I thought we already established that 'or else' means absolutely nothing coming from you?

Mr. Randle didn't say anything for a minute, then finally he just snapped, "You send Steve home soon, you hear?"

"Yeah, I hear. Now get off my porch." And Darry slammed the door in his face.

"Darry?" There was one thing I just didn't understand.

He turned to face me. "Yeah, kiddo?"

"Steve told us he got his bruises fighting, 'member? Not from his old man."

Darry gave me a sad smile, like he thought I'd just said something cute. "Pone, did you honestly believe him?"

 ** _Author's afterthought: Again, sorry for the wait, and sorry in advance for the wait I just know is coming for the next chapter. PLEASE REVIEW ANYHOW?_**


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